


I Will Never Be You

by NightingalesSong



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, enemys to frieds and even more eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:49:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 46,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingalesSong/pseuds/NightingalesSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes not even the best criminals can break out of their own minds even if they managed to break one of their own out of prison.</p><p>UPDATE: This story is on hiatus. I don't know if or when I will continue. At currently 87 pages I have to stop now. If I should continue, the story might be different than what is currently uploaded, since I had a feeling I really should re-do some parts, now that I have a little experience with writing. Should the re-write happen and be successful I will continue this. Thank you to everyone who followed this far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my very first work EVER to be written and actually uploaded anywhere. I hope you all enjoy it. And i shall note that english is NOT my first language so i'm sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes that may have found their way into this story. :D

This was the big day. Here he was, cramped together in a Van with three other grown man wearing clown masks, waiting for Bain to give them their go. He shot a quick glance at the grinning mask that covered his brothers face. Even if he couldn't see it now he just knew which expression would be waiting there. Concentration, a bit of worry, a few wrinkles that made Dallas look older than he really was. He always worried. Most of the time he worried too much. On the other hand..was there ever a „too much“ in their line of business? Probably not.

In a way it was reassuring to know that Dallas would always keep things in line and working. They all trusted this man with their lives for a reason. But even so, today was special. It was out of the ordinary.

They'd get Hoxton back. The man they all knew and cared about...well..not all. But he had been part of the Payday Gang long before and Houston always knew that he'd merely been a replacement. There was a need to fill the gap that Hoxton left behind and he was just the one that had been the least trouble or so he thought. He was Dallas' brother after all. A minimum risk that he'd rat anyone out, he knew his way around and he just so happened to be in reach.

A bump in the road startled him in his thoughts. Silently he cursed and loosened the grip he'd subconsciously been having on the man sitting beside him. Wolf just shrugged it off though. He seemed way too caught up in his little humming and tapping about on the case that held his beloved technical instuments. Chains, seated across from him on Dallas side was checking his magazines, placing each bullet into them with care. And as for Dallas...Dallas was....shit...looking right at him.

„You alright, little brother?“, and there it was. The Investigation started. „I'm fine. Really. How long is it anyways?“, he tried to change the subject. This wasn't something he wanted to discuss in front of Wolf and Chains. Not that he had a strong desire to discuss anything anytime with anyone. No those were his own thoughts and he'd keep those to himself.

„We arrive in about 10 minutes. Don't lose your nerves now.“.

Houston just snorted humorlessly on that remark. He wasn't going to lose his shits about this. They'd get Hoxton out..they'd probably face some heavy firepower but hey, that was the price to pay for getting a crew member out with a reputation like his. What really weighed on his thoughts was the nagging question how this would continue.

Would they even need him when they got their friend back? He knew the answer was probably no. He tried to tell himself as long as he could that this wouldn't be a problem. He'd just go back to pulling his own little heists, rob a jewellry store here and there and live a decent life. To be honest though, now that he'd been part of this team and more important part of his brothers life again for little more than two years he feared the solitude that seemed to prey on him now. But that was something he could and would never tell anyone especially not his brother. He knew he loved Hoxton as dearly as if he'd be part of this family. As a kind of second brother. Listening to Dallas' stories about what stunts they'd pull he couldn't help but wonder if maybe this Hox guy was the one Dallas would've preferred to have as his real brother. He never personally met the guy but coming from that point it was hard to not have a slight grudge against him. On the other hand if getting this guy back would make Nate happy..well..then so be it. With whatever price that came, he'd figure out how to pay it accordingly when the time arrived. So Houston tried to pull himself together and proceeded to check his gear one last time before they'd take on this fight.  
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To say this „Jim“ guy wasn't a complete pain in the ass would've been an understatement. From the Moment this guy had seen his old mask worn by another Heister he seemed to have been adamant to make Houstons life as miserable as possible. Yeah maybe he'd measured the C4 a little wrong but maybe this dickhead of a stuck up brit had just so happened to be in an unfortunate place when the whole thing detonated. There was no way of telling! He was alive and considering the circumstances as well as he could be! The wound on his upper leg would be just a scar soon, so what was the big deal? Wolf and Dallas had to deal with the discomfort of having taken a shotgun hit by a raging dozer..and well in addition Wolf had a few bruises extra since he decided to singlehandedly take down said dozer with just his drill. This guy. Sometimes he was just batshit crazy and the next moment he could be the most pleasing company. One just had to be happy to be on his good side.

It was the second day after they went and grabbed Hox. Houston was rummaging through the safehouse kitchen not completely sure what he was even searching for, other than distraction from the fact that absolutely nothing had been said about how this all would continue on. Yeah there was the fact that he was now officially „Houston“ and not replacement „Hoxton“ anymore. But seriously now that he knew the guy who constantly called him 'shit for brains' and other charming nicknames he couldn't help but being glad to not have to wear the name of this douche any longer.

There once was a time, early when he started to work with his brother, where he was kind of proud to be given this name. Maybe because he longed for the same respect that Dallas seemed to have for the english guy. Given the things his brother had told him about Hox, how he was damn good at what he did, how he was one of if not the best friend that Dallas had. All in all he seemed like he'd be a good sport. Truth be told for a while he kind of even admired the man he never knew, but all of those thoughts were crushed the second „Jim“ decided to not live up to any of his expectations. And Dallas didn't even seem to mind the constant sulking and bullshit his brother was getting from his BFF. On the other hand it would seem like Dallas needed to protect his baby brother and that was the last thing he needed. To give Mr. Douchebag another excuse to holler around insults.

Armed with a bag of potato chips he made his way downstairs, searching for a quiet spot to curl up in and munch away on his loot. Judging from the constant muffled sounds coming from the shooting range accompanied by swedish singing he at least knew where Wolf was. Dallas was probably brooding over new plans and blueprints together with Chains and that left Mr.Douchebag as the only possible danger between him and the goal of a peaceful afternoon. But...sure enough on the old couch down in the basement sat no one else but him, a book clutched in his hands.

Houston almost turned on his heels, but something kept him there. Something was..off. Even though Hoxton was supposedly reading, his eyes just seemed to be glued on one page, not moving just staring as if he was somewhere deep in thought. He seemed kind of...lost..in a way but maybe Houston was just seeing things.The guy didn't even seem to notice Houston just standing there almost right beside him. He didn't know what posessed him to speak up to the brit or what he even expected.

„Hey...are you allright..?“, he asked silently. The man before him practically tensed up for a brief second before returning to his usual douchbaggery attitude.

„Oy, don't sneak up on people reading like that you twat. You should be glad i didn't have any weapons on me. Never creep up on an armed man. And for the first part, who are you? Mother Theresa? No i'm fine and if not you little shitface would be the last one i told. Waddle off, lad!“, and with that he shooed Houston out.

„Nevermind. Forget i was even asking, asshole.“, this guy was stealing his last nerve. Suddenly accompanying Wolf on the shooting range wasn't such a bad idea anymore.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cold heavy steel in his hands felt comfortable, reassuring. With steady hands he checked the weapon in his grasp. He knew wolf was looking at him, his head slightly leaned to one side, the question that nagged at him apparent.

„Houston..?“

Blang! The first shot landed in the head of the shooting range dummy, tipping it over.

„...Houston...?“, Wolfs voice now a little more careful, as if he, out of all people, was scared to anger someone.

Blang! Second shot buried deep into another dummys abdomen. In his head all of those dummys wore the same contorted version of his own mask that Hoxton now had.

Blang! Third shot, right into this fucking douchebags face!

„...Zac!“, to hear the abberation of his real name startled him and caused him to look at the still confused Wolf.

„What?!", he snapped before his rational thinking sprang to work again.

"....Sorry...“, he lowered his weapon and let out a small sigh. „I just needed to let off some steam. This...i...i shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry.“

He rubbed the back of his head suddenly very aware of how immature he was acting. Letting out his anger on inanimate objects by putting a bullet through them.

„You are angry..?“, Wolf asked defensively as if not to direct this anger at himself.

„I'm not angry!...well..yes...maybe...i don't know...“

„Is it because of Hox..?“, the swede carefully inquired further.

A small clicking sound came from the weapon in Houstons hand as he put the safety back into place. It took a while before the younger man decided to speak up again.

„Did you ever feel like...uhm...how do i put this...like you are not needed...?“, he glanced up at the Technician before returning his gaze to the cold metal in his hands.  
„Nevermind...“, he was about to up and leave as the warm voice of Wolf cut through the silence again.

„That he's here now doesn't mean you are out of this. You got your own name. Remember?“, and with that Wolf turned to his own shooting practice again.

„Yeah and the one who gave it to me uses his next breath to throw insults at me. Charming.“, he silently muttered as he put his gun away. Wolf probably didn't hear him anyway over the thundering of his shooting.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It was way too early to be awake. And way too early to lay on a shitty couch and shiver like there was no tomorrow...hell for all he bloody knew this might be it. The Panic and the Phantom pain in his dream had cast Hoxton wide awake, leaving him drenched in cold sweat and quietly gasping for air. He didn't want any of the other crew members to see him like that. He was supposed to be the same as he was. Strong methodically and so on. So he threw a quick glance at Wolf who was snoring away a few feet across from him. The little twat was even further away tucked in one of the two sleeping bags they had. The thought alone of being tied into one of those things nearly gave him a panic attack. He couldn't wait to have his own room once they were done renovating the safehouse a bit further.

With a small sigh he raised himself up without bothering to flip a light on or putting on any more than his wide boxershorts and the old and too big shirt he wore. As silently as he could he searched for his pack of cigarettes before he headed out through the kitchen into the garage and from there into the small backyard they had. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke in hopes that it would ease the tightness in his chest that those dreams left him with.

Hell how long had it been since he last saw the stars. A few of them at least. The rest was veiled by the light pollution every bigger city came with. But it was something. It was more than a grey ceiling. Just stone. Just Cold. Empty. Alone. Hurting...no. No he wouldn't let his mind wander there. He was free now...or was he? It had been three days now and still he felt like he was imprisoned. Not by walls. No but by his own mind and that was all the more frightening. Bloody hell he knew how to deal with physical pain! He'd been boxing long enough in more than one underground ring. Still..His gaze wandered up again as he took another draw. The cigarette in front of him lighting up as if he had his own little star. Fading as fast as it had shone up.

Suddenly a sharp pain shot through the left side of his face, causing him to drop the cigarette und clutching his face with a muffled whimpering. His legs decided it was time to stop working, leaving him to slide down the filthy brick wall behind him, keeling over.

He never figured out what had caused the burning. Only that it had hurt like a bitch. He awoke with this reminder of his failure handcuffed to a hospital bed. He remembered that for a short second he wondered why he was even alive. With his record he had been sure they'd just mark his death as an „unfortunate accident“ and be done with it. But no. They managed to keep him, the beaten up bloody pile of human flesh, actually alive.

He cursed quietly under his breath, trying to gain his posture back. Hell this day couldn't get any better...Maybe if he'd done a few heists again with his crew. HIS crew.. not this little wankers'. He knew it was Dallas' younger brother but still he couldn't bring himself to like this little shit who just took his mask and name and place, hell his LIFE for all he cared. When he saw the news that another guy had replaced him, he was sure they'd just given up on him. THAT had hurt. Why would they need a man that the FBI knew all about. He was a risk. Breaking him out had been a risk. A fucking huge one at that. It was stupid and he knew that. Hell it had been himself who went back.. who threw himself hinto a mass of swarming Feds just so the others could bail. He knew all of that. Every second and every punch and kick he took before everything went black for him. But after months and months of solitude in Prison, after keeping nosy bastards at bay and holding his dominant position up in jail..he just lost the will and strenght to go on. Especially after he heard about the „new“ Hoxton.

Slowly he dragged himself up on the wall crossing his arms before his chest and closing his eyes trying to force air into his too tight lungs. „New“ always had the addition of...bettter..and now here he was...the „old“ Hox. „Fucking hell...“, as much as he would've liked to sound as confident as always when he cursed...he just didn't. He just sounded...lost.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He heard the small creaking sounds, the old and a little loose floorboards made when a slim figure tiptoed through the safehouse. He watched silently as the man searched for something and then headed to the backyard. Something about his posture seemed..fragile. It concerned Houston. Something about this drew him towards the man he so wholeheartedly despised now. He needed to know if he was alright. He would be trusting this man with his life in upcoming heists...right..?

Or at least this was what he told himself. It was easier than admitting that he had a soft spot for people who needed help. Dallas always told him this little known characteristic about him would get him in trouble at one point. He stopped in the garage unseen to the other man as he heard a lighter and saw the brief shine of a little flame. Somehow he was unsure if he should reveal himself. It would be strange after all..and it was Hoxton out of all people. Maybe he should just wait and tell Dallas the next morning so he could--  
his train of thought was abruptly stopped when he heard a little muffled whimper followed by the soft thud of knees hitting the concrete. Okay that was it. The man definetly needed help, if he'd fallen.. if.. if his wound was getting worse.. after all it was his fault he was the one to measure---again he was cut off as he heard a small almost vulnerable 'fucking hell...' from the other side of the wall.

„Hoxton..?“, he asked in the most non-aggressive tone he could muster as he took the last step out into the open. It was just a brief second where he saw what can only be described as a broken man before the mask of smugness returned on the other mans face.

„What is it, Loverboy? Having a nightmare?“, Hoxton spat out in his usual comedic tone. „Getting scared of the dark again? Are you that desperate that you come crawling to me out of all people?“

Houston sighed. „Look..i know that you can't stand me. But if you...ah...if there's anything..“, he was cut off by Hoxtons raised hand.

„Stop. Stop it right there. Don't give me this shite. I don't need you or your brother to babysit me. Alright? So just drop it.....Especially not you.“, for a moment he seemed like a scared and wounded animal pressed into the corner of a room ready to bite and claw it's way out.

„Dude, you can't really expect me to act like nothing happened here. I can see you are NOT alright. We're all supposed to work with each o--“

„No.“

„Eh..what?“

„You heard me. You and me.. we will never work together. And don't act like you know anything about me. You don't. None of you do. Not anymore so save your breath, i won't spill my beans in front of a bloody wanna be heister.“

„...Fine...so I'll tell Dallas. Then he can deal with your shitty attitude!...fucking brit..“

„I'm english, you twat! And don't you dare run to your brother!“, now the ex-inmate took a step forward, yelping as he forgot he shouldn't be putting his whole weight on his injured leg.

„I'm pretty confident i can run faster than you right now.“, Houston couldn't let this chance slip to at least get back a little bit at Hoxton.

„Fuck.You.“, the fugitive spat out before he groaned quietly and put a hand on his leg in a kind of death grip manner.

Now he felt bad. The man in front of him seemed to be in real pain and he was talking shit.

„Hey hey..Look, how about we get you inside so you can sit down..and i'll get Chains..so he can take a look at that.“, he reached out to help Hoxton up again or to at least get him to lean on the brick wall, but the man almost jumped back hissing at him.

„Don't!...i swear i'm gonna break your arms if you touch me, shithead.“

There it was again. The sensation of standing in front of a wounded and paniced animal. He just couldn't help but feel like he just needed to do something. No one should be as scared as this man in front of him was, even if he tried so hard to hide it behind his douchy attitude. Someone had to be the grown up here. Might as well be him now.

„Shut up and let me help!“, so much for grown up. At least he tried.

„Just leave me alone will ya?“, the plea that probably should have been an intimidating one just sounded bitterly.

„After i got you back in the safehouse. Then you can just lay down and make your mind up to push up daisies for all i care! Now stop being a bitch!“, and with that he took his whole courage and put one of Hoxtons arms around his shoulders to give the man something to lean on.

„Shite..“, surprisingly Hoxton followed inside with Houstons help and didn't even make a fuss. He just seemed to be in a state of defeat. Or acceptance. Whatever it was. Houston didn't care much, for now if it meant this pain in the ass would just comply for once. He could think about this later.

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It had been a week now. Hoxton avoided him with all he got. In front of the others he was still calling him every name in the book but as soon as they were alone in a room he'd leave as fast as he could. He would never meet his eyes. No one else seemed to notice how agitated the man was. How his hands slightly trembled when he thought no one was watching him. Why did he even care? The guy was a douche. But somehow he just couldn't help it.

It all went south when Dallas announced the plan for their new Job. An easy grab and run on a jewellry store.

„So, this one's a small one. Gotta take it easy for a while now. Chains, i want you to check all our weaponry and meet up with Gage, we need some of the silencers to be changed. Wolf, we need your drills to be fast and efficient i don't want them jammed every few seconds or so.“

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Which name would it be. Hoxtons gaze was fixated on the Chief almost as if he tried to will Dallas into saying his name and giving him his task for to upcoming job. Houston felt uncomfortable shifting his weight from one foot to the other, nervously folding and unfolding his hands.

„Hoxton---for this one i want you here. It's still not safe enough for you to go out and your leg needs rest too.“

'Well shit', was all Houston thought. He could almost feel the angry stare that was melting itself into the back of his head.

„What? No! I'm good to roll with you! I'm dying of boredom in here. I could be the lookout i--“, Dallas just cut him off, one hand slightly lifted.

„The answer is no, Jim. It's too dangerous. We didn't break you out just to hand you back over to the feds one week later. Stay put.“, when the english tried to speak up again Dallas cut him off once more. „And stand down!“

„Fuck you Dallas. Is this just because he's your brother and everyones little sunshine?! Fuck this, i can do the job! You all know i can! This isn't even going to be a loud one! A lousy jewellry store i can handle that with a steelbeam through both of my legs! Why is he the sodding first choice now? I thought we were pals Dallas! Thank you for replacing me with this little shithead! Why did you even break me out in the first place if you intended to let me rot here?! Did you feel sorry or what is this?! Chains? Nothing to say 'bout that? Wolf i thought at least you'd have my back here! Fucking shite..!“, with that Hoxton stormed off, slamming the Door to his Room shut returning to the solitude he sought once his room had been ready a few days ago.

Dallas rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed quietly.

„..May i follow him..? I could talk to him maybe he'll listen and then he won't be mad...i don't like it when he's mad..“, Wolf offered. It was obvious he cared a big deal for the man and was hit pretty deep by those accusations. Wolf was a maniac and a real psychotic at times but he also had a warm and cheery side to him. To see him get beat down by just a few words just wasn't right. It was unfair to him. To all of them.

„No. Not now Wolf. Let him cool down for a bit. You know how he can be. Back to the job. Houston make sure your ECMs are working. Every one of you, be sure to pack enough cable ties. I don't want any casualties if possible.“, Dallas continued on with his plans and instructions for a while.

After the briefing was over, Houston held his brother back by the sleeve of his suit.

„Nate..is it.. uhm.. can i talk to you for a bit..? Please..?“,the others were already up to their own chores again. He could hear Chains messing around with pans and cooking equipment upstairs, Wolf was probably disobedient and went to talk to Hoxton anyways. He just was like that.

„Sure. What is it, little brother?“, Dallas crossed his arms eyeing Houston with his seemingly endless patience.

„Is it really like that..? Are you choosing me over him just because we're brothers..?“

„You know that's not true. If you weren't a usefull addition to this team you would've never set foot in this house. Let Hoxton talk. He's just pissed he has to stay put a little longer. He'll be back to normal in a few hours.“

„This doesn't bother you in the slightest?“

„What exactly?“; Dallas leaned his head to the side in a little confused way.

„That he's....like this..? I..I know i didn't know him back then or if he was the same as now but...Man i think he has some serious issues...Don't any of you guys notice, how he's like a powder keg, ready to be set off by the smallest of sparks? Maybe you should talk to him Nate...You were best friends, weren't you? If he'll listen to anyone then it's you....as far as i can tell.“

"He always was a little driven by emotion. To put it lightly. He's not a bad guy. He really isn't. Just give him time to sort things out with himself."

"And you think he can do that all on his own..? This doesn't seem strange to you, that he's practically locking himself in this little room? I don't know about you, but for me this seems alarming for someone who should be all high about actually being free now after two years."

"So what do you want me to do? If i go and interrogate him he will just shut me out and build up his defenses. It's no use to try and talk him into something. One just doesn't simply do that. Not with Hox. If he doesn't want to talk he just doesn't want to. So i won't waste my breath trying. It was always like that. As soon as he's ready he'll come out and be his english cheery self."

"So you will leave him to himself?"

"For now. Yes.", for Dallas this exchange seemed to be over as he returned to scoop up blueprints to store them away safely.

This didn't sit so well with Houston. As before, he just couldn't shake the feeling that this man sure as hell would never come crawling to search for help. Actually he seemed more like the type to just force everything away out of his mind until the big breakdown came. He feared how that may looked like with someone like Hoxton.  
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"Hox...?", to hear the voice of a grown man like Wolf in a manner this quietly and concerned, managed to get Hox to open the door. He just unlocked it and slumped back down on his bed, back resting against the wall, legs crossed.

"May i come in..?", Wolf just peeked his head inside, waiting for an answer.

"Hey Wolfy...", he just padded on the bed beside of him as an invitation to enter. "Close the door behind you. Thanks.."

The technician quietly entered and sat down by Hox' side, shoulder resting against his. For a brief moment Hoxton had the strong urge to just flee the innocent contact. He wasn't used to non-hostile human contact anymore. Once his mind processed and convinced him that this was just Wolf. Only Wolf, who'd never be a threat to him, he settled in, leaning a little against his friend himself.

"You are tired.."

Hoxton didn't need to answer. That's why he'd always treasured the occasions Wolf was like this. Just observing, caring. He didn't need the audible confirmation or answers he already knew.

Sure he loved the times when Wolf was all cheery and almost like a child on christmas eve, but afternoons like this were special. It was rare to see this side of the man who, in all honesty was everything but a stable personality.

"..And you are hurting.", Hox closed his eyes, a quiet sigh escaping his lips, not angered but rather defeated as he let his head fall back against the cold wall behind him.

"I'm fine...the leg's almost as good as new, don't worry..."

"I'm not talking about the leg..."

"....I know, Wolfy..."

"...You don't want to talk about it, right..?"

"No...not now..i just...can't. I'm sorry."

"It's fine...just don't lose yourself over this...i don't like it if people get lost...not at all..", in Wolfs twisted ways this was how he'd put his care for Hox into words. One that ran deeper than the professional relationship they all shared through their job. Hoxton couldn't help but feeling the smallest of smiles creeping up on his face. It almost felt like something unnatural. It had been a while for him to really smile. Not the forced 'no really i'm okay' kind of smiles.

"Thanks..", he muttered silently.

Wolf didn't respond to this. He just nudged a little closer, giving Hox more to lean on to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one scene. Houston gets to find out what happened two years ago. In my mind at least xD

Another two weeks went by before the heist actually took place. Bain had set up everything and guided them through this job. All went down as Dallas had anticipated it, no casualties, no alarms and a van full of valuables at the end of it. For Chains and Wolf this meant they were going to hit the bars. Dallas went home to his own apartment to sort out formalities, which left Houston with the choice where he'd spend his evening.

Maybe he should've joined Chains and Wolf, he thought. But then again Partys weren't his thing. At all. So here he was, almost without making a sound opening the door to the safehouse. He quickly passed the laundry in the front room only stopping to glance out the dusty window panes. It was a quiet night. No one was out on the streets. Not even cars passed the tranquil area around their hiding place. He'd just practice for a bit, opening safes, while keeping track of time in his head. He could tell you to the second when 3 minutes had passed without a watch.

He stretched his sore limbs for a moment before he took the last steps into the safety of their makeshift home, sighing lightly. He stopped as he was greeted with a puzzling scene. Even in the dim light that fell through the windows he could make out the outlines of a less than healthy number of beer cans, all scattered around one of their couches. And on said couch lay a more than drunk Hoxton, a laptop half open on his knees, in danger of slipping down at any given moment.

He almost seemed fragile, curled in on himself, clutching the device a expression of unease plastered across his features. For a moment he considered just leaving the man to his drunken stupor so Wolf or whoever came home first could deal with this, but then bad conciousness kicked in and he made his mind up to, again, look after the other man.

"God why me..", Houston sighed again. This time less relaxed.  
Carefull to not wake the sleeping man, he inched closer, using all of his pickpocketing skills to free the laptop out of Hox' grip. As soon as the weight was gone the englishman curled up even more. Having lost the warmth of the still running device, he now shivered almost violently.

"Fuck you and your too soft heart...", Houston cursed himself. He went and got the thin blanket he had in his sleeping bag and threw it over the frail figure, tucking him in. It was better than nothing.

The laptop he had set aside on the small table now caught his eye. He should just shut it down so it wouldn't run out of power. He flipped the laptop now completely open and shot a quick glance at what was on the screen. He had almost bet his ass to find porn or something like that opened in a browser. But no. His eyes fell on the colourless greenish-grey of a securty tape. The video was bad quality and he knew he shouldn't be so nosy, but curiosity took the better of him as he slumped down on the other couch across from Hoxtons. For a moment he hesitated. He didn't even know why he wanted to know what occupied Hoxton when he was alone. Actually it was unnerving how much this dickhead was on his mind lately. But still..

Even though he hit the enter button just lightly it rang like a gunshot in his ears. Afraid to have woken up the other man, he stared at him for a moment before his eyes returned to the screen.

The Cam seemed to have been situated at the edge of a roof. Maybe above the door of a maintenance booth up there. For a solid 5 minutes there was nothing than nightly peace. Then 4 men all of which he knew all too well came into view for just a few frames, no faces revealed, but he recognized posture and build of all of them. Especially the one with a small ponytail. Then the cam went dead for just 2 seconds before the roof was empty again. Camera loop.

Suddenly the camera feed changed. It seemed like someone had made this clip out of many copys of the varying security tapes all with the same date stamp and ongoing timer at the bottom. He could see how the gang made it's way to what seemed like the entrance hall of a bank.  
Feed change. A long, narrow hallway. He almost felt like Bain. Or at least he imagined that was how he always saw their jobs. As a kind of silent audience.

He followed the crew as they got their hands on security cards, evaded guards and eventually got to a vault door. They went in and something wasn't right. The footage seemed to jump fast now, covering the entrance cameras.  
Houston held his breath as he made out the white S.W.A.T. letters on the vests of more than a dozen men silently entering. This was just one of the entrances. The cam switched to all the others only to reveal the same -and that was SWATs entering the building- before it returned to the crew.

He could just guess what it was that Bain was telling them, but they all immediately dropped everything and just took the bags that were ready. Guns in their hands they ran as fast as they could, but in the hallway he had seen them in earlier they were stopped in their tracks. None of them wore any vests or heavy guns, this shoud have been a silent job. He could almost hear his brothers voice as the american flag mask turned to the others gesturing them to take cover behind what little decoration the hallway had. That was when the first explostion of light hit the camera lens.  
He was almost blinded by the image of what a flash bang looked like on tape. it was just a few seconds but he knew how those could feel like an eternity and then some when you were in the middle of gunfire, robbed of one or even two of your senses.  
When the light died down, he watched as SWAT units fell, how they fought their way out of there.  
It was strange how the SWATs seemed to be fixated on the man wearing the white and pink mask he now called his own. Sure they fired on everyone but they positioned in a way that always put Hoxton under the most pressure. They actively tried to seperate him from the group. It was scary to watch. But the group made it to the roof, now that the loop didn't seem to be in place anymore he could see a zip line, ready to help them escape. But that would take way too long. The apparatus on the line needed time to make it back. Wolf and Hoxton stopped dead in their tracks. They seemed to debate with Dallas, who just gestured them to run and then turned to do the same to Chains who then hooked himself to the line and was the first to disappear. The seconds ticked by. Camera feeds changed fast again. Almost too fast. they stopped on the outside of the building, showing a transporter. Special Units with different riot shields poured out, one of the soldiers wearing a big star on his uniform.

"Oh shit...", he silently cursed. His eyes were now glued onto the screen.

Again the feeds changed fast, back to the crew. It was as if Bain was bouncing his primary view between Winters and the gang now. He was almost sure this was Bains point of view. Whyever he had a recording of this was beyond him. Wolf was still frozen in place until Hoxton violently shoved him away. Wolf then stumbled. It was obvious he didn't want to leave. Whatever it was they were talking about, the swede didn't like it, at all. But he complied. He watched as now Wolf disappeared on the line. Hoxton was about to push Dallas to the line too, when they both turned around quickly. Bains cameras changed again, too quick even for him. Dallas and Hoxtons raised their guns shooting side by side, it was obvious they had done this often, that they trusted each other to have their backs. He could see how the sled of his brothers pistol was cocked back soon, no more bullets in the chamber or magazine. The first SWAT units moved into view, too close for them to escape in time now.

He saw how Hox shot a quick glance at the empty gun in Dallas' hands first, then on the man himself before he made a decision. He threw his whole weight into Dallas, almost sending him flying over the edge of the roof who more in a reflex grabbed the apparatus on the zip line and did what came to his mind in this fight or flight situation and hooked himself in, in an attempt to be fast enough for all of them to get away.

Houston watched, with a hand clasped before his mouth as this crazy englishman shot another few rounds into the appearing swarm of SWATs before his own weapon was empty. His head was tilted to the zip line, then back to the horde of swats, a riot shield with a star on it making its way to the front. The empty pistol just slipped out of Hoxtons hands. He pulled out a knife, for a moment it seemed like he would throw himself into the swarm but then he turned around and jumped to the zip line, forcefully breaking the safety that held it in place, cutting every way out for himself.

And then...he just let himself fall. Or at least it seemed like it. He could only guess what was happening. And he figured Bain didn't have a clue at the time either with the recordings changing frantically before he finally found Hox again crawling out of a pool of broken glass and wood. This lunatic seemed to have known about the lightfall beneath him. He was limping heavily and clasping his left arm but he was alive. However he wouldn't make it far the way he was. Again the feeds changed rapidly. He seemed to be in the same building as before.

Hoxton pressed his uninjured hand against his ear listening closely to Bain. The knife he pulled out of the mess clutched tightly in his right, he made his way to a nearby door, where he vanished out of sight again.

For whatever reason the camera didn't change for a minute. Houston saw how SWATs attached to ropes followed the way Hoxton had taken, landing in the pool of shards and blood droplets he had left behind.

When the cam finally changed again he saw Hoxton the arm with the knife raised in a hallway, a dozen aussault rifles pointed at him. He jolted for seemingly no reason before more men came into view behind him through the door he had used just a few seconds ago. One of them just violently kicked into his knee from behind, sending him to the ground. Others followed suit, swarming him like angry bees. He couldn't see Hoxton anymore in the blob of SWATs. He could just see how they took their swings at something on the ground. How their movements came to a sudden halt when they had hit their target. How they would just take another swing. And another.

He couldn't watch this any longer. He just couldn't and yet he couldn't turn his eyes away either. This could have been his brother. This could have been Nathan if this man hadn't decided to shove him to safety. His hand had returned to his mouth, afraid that he'd make a sound and wake the drunk men on the other couch. He would've probably never seen his brother again if it had been Dallas. He wouldn't be here now, in this strange and twisted, but in it's way working family that was the gang.

They just beat the man to their feet with everything they had, they didn't even stop when Houston hadn't made out a movement of the man on the floor for almost two minutes. When it was finally over and a higher ranked man gestured them to move on, they all just took their gear and left without a second glance. Just two of the men dragged a lifeless disfigured pulp of flesh behind them by his arms, not even caring that at least one of them was visibly broken and dislocated. The trail of blood and a pool of it almost like a black mirror was all they left behind. Then the video stopped and returned to the first frame, ready to be replayed.

Houston felt sick. This was just so wrong. Nobody deserved that kind of treatment. Those men shoud've been the ones to represent the law. To hold up values. Yes he and everyone else on the team were criminals but this...this just made it easier to believe that they were doing the right thing. That this system was broken and corrupt. That they stole from people who stole it first, who were unjust, who--  
He stopped when he noticed the sensation of being watched.

"Did you enjoy the show....?", the words came out in a slurr, the effect of alcohol obvious. "Must've...'ve been a blast to see me, getting the shit kicked out of me, huh?", he paused for a bit before he spoke again. "No wait. Don't answer to that i already know the answer..",Hoxton now carefully took the laptop and set it aside, closing it slowly. "You shouldn't have seen this. Now you're gonna give me this bloody 'poor guy' stare.", he scoffed. How Hoxton was even walking in a more or less straight line was beyond Houston.

"That was when you got caught..", the moment he said it he felt dumb. Sure it was then. A man had been dragged outside by SWAT units, they sure as hell didn't let him leave with a pat on the back after that. He just didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say but 'I'm so sorry' just didn't fit very well now, did it.

"Oh no, no this is how they get me to play cards with them.",he rolled his eyes a little. Then something unexpected happened. Hoxton let himself fall on the remaining space on Houstons couch. "Now you know what happened."

"You knew they were there for you...right?", Houston carefully inquired. He could see how glassy Hoxtons eyes were, that it was probably the alcohol that made him this talkative and actually less of a dick. He might as well took the chance to look behind the mask.

"Yeah...it was obvious, wasn't it...Could've been any of us though...don't know why it was me...", he bowed down a little and now held a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. The cap was thrown away with seemingly no intend to close the liquor again, before he took a deep sip.

"Why didn't you just leave...maybe you would've made it.."

"Because 'maybe' is never good enough if it is your friends. If it is the only pisspoor excuse of a bloody family you have...", his answer was more of a low growl. He was angry. About what, Houston couldn't quite tell, but at least it wasn't directed at him for once. "Those people are MY family...wankers..",the almost lovingly spoken insult even made Houston smile for a brief second. He could identify with that. They all had their oddities but under the shell of professional thiefs and general criminals was a deep loyalty and friendship towards one another. They could also drive one insane though. Indeed, wankers. In the best way. He was surprised when he heard Hoxton speak up again on his own.

"...That's why...And because i like to be beaten up so much. I'm a bit of a masochist i guess.", he tried to mask his unease with a humorless chuckle before he took another swig.

"You shouldn't joke about that,man....You practically saved three lives."

"Bollocks...They wouldn't have killed any of us."

"You really sure of that..? They might as well. I don't think any Lawenforcer likes us. Didn't look like it back then."

"I'm not some kind of magical hero, you twat...I'm just a thief as we all are. I got what i asked for i guess. That's all. No need for more than one of us to go to a bloody hellhole like Hazelton.", Hoxton sighed quietly, a lot less power behind his insult than unsual. If he didn't knew better, Houston was tempted to even say none.

"You're not really that much of a bad guy, as you try to make everyone belive, huh...well...maybe you're just a nice drunk.", he couldn't help but wonder, if he maybe now got a glimpse of what Dallas saw in this man.

"Fuck that sissy shite..i just know who and what i am, that's all. And i ain't no fucking hero cause i shoved a few guys almost off a rooftop. Told the others the same..still shitting themselves over how they feel guilty...but there's no need for that..no need for guilt, no need to be thankful, no nothing..So save it...there's nothing great about that. Not gonna fall for that adoration shit...and i still can't stand you..", he added quietly before he slumped back into the comfortable softness and warmth the cushions behind him provided, taking another gulp.

"And why is that..?",he just took the chance now that he had the Brit talking. Worst case he'd get another insult thrown at him.

"'Cause you replaced me, you little shite. That's why...we simply can't be friends or even casual aquaintances or whatever it is you're tryin' to get with this mother hen shite...Never. Just not possible. So deal with it.", he almost sounded like he needed to remind himself of that over and over again. Hoxton turned to face him, just watching him in the dim light the streetlights provided through dusty windows. He remained silent for a long time. It was as if he was losing himself in thought and Houston just so happened to be in his line of sight.

Houston shifted, a little taken aback by the intense glance. It made him feel vulnerable. He managed to build up the courage to actually return the eye contact. It was strange how hazel eyes he always thought to be cold and full of disdain now turned out to be very deep and actually very warm.

"Okay...so we will never be friends...i can live with that...at least now we know where we stand, once and for all, huh?..well.. so... let's not be friends then. And just to let you know, I'm not trying to get anything from you, or anyone else for that matter. It's called 'having a heart'....twat.", he couldn't help but smile just a little. The more Hox denied that he had any plus points on his score, the more he was sure that he had a few. Maybe just very few. But it was a start.

" 'Having a heart' just gets you one of two things. One: Being everyones idiot, and two: You're getting used. It's the same. Always."

"And which one of the two will it be with you then? So i can start making my mind up.", he just contered.

"You're my idiot. isn't that obvious?"  
Houston was surprised to hear Hox chuckle, this time genuine.

"Fucking twat.",the little smile remained on his features for a while before he returned to taking a sip out of his bottle.

He knew that it was just the alcohol, but still, it made him smile himself to see the Brit cheer up at least a bit.

"No seriously, lad...be careful...to be too soft hearted just gets you in trouble in this line of work...", he then raised himself up und took a few steps around the couch before looking back at Houston. "I mean it. Be careful. G'night Houston." He placed the almost empty bottle on the small table and left Houston to himself.

He couldn't tell if it was just accidental or if the english man had wanted to brush his hand slightly over his shoulder when he passed. Whatever it was, it left Houston wondering for a while. Even more when it dawned on him that Hoxton had for the first time used his Name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah not sure how this turned out. It's really hard to write in a interesting way if it's not your first language you are using D: Anyways i hope you enjoy. :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe sometimes there is more to a song than we think at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a short one, i'm sorry. Maybe the next will be longer.
> 
> Songs Mentioned: I Know I'm A Wolf - Young Heretics ; November - Wolfgang Fuchs

He thought that maybe, just maybe a little bit had changed between them. But no. The Next day when Hoxton was still hungover and even more cynic than he usually was, he went on with his comments as if nothing had ever happened. Nothing had changed. Not that Houston was able to notice anyway. And so a few weeks went by, that turned into two months.

 

The Payday Crew was still increasing in Numbers, they now counted 13 heisters. Even two Ladys among them. If you could call them that. Both of which were recruited by Hoxton. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by Houston. He always thought part of the reason why Hox hated him so much, was because he was the fifth wheel, an unneeded addition..yet there he was, just happily inviting new members in. None of which he disdained with such a passion, as he did with Houston.

 

To be fair..Hox didn't really insult him that much anymore..he was now getting the silent and ignore treatment alltogether.

Houston would have never admitted it, but it hurt. Somewhere deep down he still had had the hope, that this best friend of his brother would eventually come to terms with him. And if it wasn't the "fifth wheel" part he was so angry about, then this meant he really DID hate him for who he was.

 

All that was twirling around in Houstons head as he was sitting at the kitchen counter, slowly circling a water bottle. He absentmindedly scratched at a dried coffee stain on the cold countertop. Probably Wolf. He was always a little messy. A little smile crept on Houstons lips that ever so slowly faded again. Sure he could think fondly of so many things about the other heisters now..but still he felt alone. Incredibly alone.

 

He swiped the mark away with his napkin, erasing the brown circle. He would never be "friends" with any of them.. not even with his brother as it seemed. He sighed quietly. Maybe it was time. The Letter to the Crew Chief was already on his desk, just waiting to be envoloped and brought to its designated place. He had thought about this for a long time now. Even before they got Number 4 back. For a while it seemed possible, that it would all work out. But the longer he stayed, the lonelier he had felt. Out of place.  Maybe it was better to return to a crappy littel two room flat, lifting a jewellry store here and there...bringing questionable company for one night home and at least have the illusion of actually for once being close to someone. Even if it was just physical. He knew he sounded whiny and like a little sissy. He knew that and still he couldn't change that this was, what he felt. He knew, he should be happy.. he had more money than he could ever spend. A more or less secure job...more or less likeable colleagues...well. This closed the circle. He was never able to hold a job down for long. And now it seemed to happen again. Not that he was needed badly now anymore anyways. They had the fugitive. A new Ghost..one of the girls. They'd be fine without him or so he figured.

 

He was torn from his thoughts when he heard the quiet sounds of a piano floating down the stairs, shortly after accompanied by a clear voice with an english accent.

 

Right...Dallas had kept this precios keyboard safely in his apartment, while his bff had been in jail...guarding it like his life depended on it.

  
"Dear rabbit, my legs are getting weak chasing you.  
The snow fields wouldn't seem so big if you knew  
That this blood on my teeth it is far beyond dry

And I've captured you once but I wasn't quite right  
So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me. "

 

There was something haunting about this song, that got Houston to stand up and silently climb the stairs to lean against the wall next to Hoxtons door and listen.

 

"Oh rabbit, my claws are dull now so don't be afraid  
I could keep you warm as long as you can just try to be brave  
  
Yes I know I'm a wolf and I've been known to bite  
But the rest of my pack, I have left them behind  
And my teeth may be sharp and I've been raised to kill  
But the thought of fresh meat, it is making me ill  
So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with.."

 

It was mostly simple accords before the music suddenly dropped in a dramatic appegio downwards, tumbling down like a whole world fell apart.

 

"...me..."

 

A simple stilistic figure, followed by a simpler version of the before drumming accords. Almost afraid, apologetic.

 

"So rabbit please stop looking the other way  
It's cold out there so why not stay here  
Under my tail..."

 

The end was so softly sung that it almost sounded desperate. He was sabout to knock and ask for Hoxton to tell him the name of the song, when he heard another familiar voice.

 

"It's a sad song..isn't it..I don't quite understand it, but it sounds sad. It's about a wolf, why is it sad...?", the swedes voice was almost like a childs now. He seemed genuinely upset about the sad canivore.

 

"Well...You know Wolfy there's many ways to interpret this song. My best guess is, that this is about a longing that just has to end with sadness. See, the Wolf wants nothing more than a friend. So he chases this rabbit. He has tried before..but it just ended with hurt, because there is something in him that tells him to follow his instincts and just kill and eat. He doesn't want to. But he has to. And that's what is making him sad."

 

"So he can't change who he is, even though he doesn't want to be this way..? Is that it..?"

 

"Not completely..you know he could change.. he could try and not eat the rabbit.. but that would eventually lead to him dying of starvation. He would save his one and only friend, the friend he always wanted..but he would die by doing so. The other way around he knows that the rabbit will always be afraid of him. No matter what. And even if it wasn't..there'd still be the threat that he is too weak to win over his instincts and hurt the rabbit."

 

"So it is a sad song..", he could almost hear Wolf pout. "The Wolf could eat carrots.."

 

Houston could hear Hoxton chuckle. "Oh how beautiful life would be, if it was that easy, huh? But yes.. maybe.. just maybe there's a small chance that something like this could work...at least for a while.", Hoxton was just being nice because of Wolf, Houston knew that. Still it was kind of sweet that he tried to brighten this up for a grown man, who didn't want to accept simple rules of predator and prey.

 

"You like this song very much...why..?", and again he had the clear mental image, of how Wolf would now tilt his head just slightly, looking at Hoxton with a questioning look.

 

The brit remained silent for a bit.

 

"It reminds me of someone...you know...or rather something i know would never work out...yeah..it's a good song to just let the mind wander i guess. It's not the 'in your face' theme. You have to think about it for a bit and i like that. The little mystery that is behind this. And it's about a Wolf and everybody likes those, right?", he chuckled again, this time in unisono with Wolf.

 

For a Moment he envied them. To have someone to casually chit-chat. It really WAS time to get out, as it seemed. Now he was getting upset, 'cause others weren't as complicated as him. He cursed himself mentally for being such a wuss and stepped away a little from the wall.

 

His way to his own room was accompanied by another song, this time piano only. He went to grab the Letter and the envolope, sitting on his bed for a while, trying to decide wether or not he should leave.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Houston takes on a Solo heist. Maybe he shouldn't have.

Houston wasn't used to working alone anymore. He did learn this the hard way, as soon as he took on his first solo mission after leaving the Crew. It started with the preparations. He was so used to have people to debate about plans and wether or not this or that was a good idea. Now he had to trust his own gut and only his own for what was to come. 

 

Sure he pulled it off, but it had been close. The next two were better but at the fourtht, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

 

"You can do this..", he silently encouraged himself, hunched over a few blueprints of a small jewellry store. It struck him as odd, that such a small place had three guards roaming about plus one in the security room. A bit much. On the other hand..there had been quite a few armed robberys in the past and especially in that part of the City. He would just have to take it slow. That's all. He threw a last glance at the blueprints and then hurried to get himself ready and set. He wanted this over as soon as possible. The job description had been odd too. So much money just so he would grab a few bracelets and necklaces, but he trusted Bain, to have an eye out for anything fishy. Even if he was on his own during missions now.

 

It was a little rainy, not the best conditions but not the worst either. He was casually leaning against a wall in front of the store he was about to hit, taking a small drag of the cigarette he was holding. His clear hazel eyes glued to the way, the guards were shifting their positions, who was where at which point. An easy pattern. If he could sneak into the camera room, take the guard there out as silently as possible, he should be golden. Then a small run to the backdoor, and he'd be able to take out the other Securitys there. With a little luck he'd even find the manager of the store there. Easy enough in theory.

 

Well. Now or never. He got off of the Wall and took a quick stride across the street. No one took notice of him. Why would they. He looked like any other businessman would. Well tailored suit, a small briefcase at his side. He took a turn to the left of the Store and went into the alleyway. No camera above the securityroom door. Jackpot. Time to put on his Mask. With quick and clever hands he had the door unlocked in the blink of an eye. His right hand pulled out his silenced Chimano and put a bullet through the guards head as soon as the door swung open. He took his time, answering the Pager. It was never easy to end a life and he had no right to complain about that. He knew that. He wasn't a good guy. But at least he tried to keep his body count down as much as he could..and he'd never kill unarmed civillians. Not unless it would endanger a Crewmember to let them live.

 

"I'm Sorry...", he muttered quietly as he put back the Pager. He knew it didn't change a thing. But still..it felt wrong to just do nothing. He then hid the body and checked the Feeds on the different screens. Everything in Order. Time to move on. He took his briefcase and hid his weapon before entering the alley again and taking a turn to the right now. Quickly he took the small set of stairs leading up to the backdoor. No camera as well. He just had to be quick because of the Café right behind him. So again, he took advantage of his impressive lockpicking skills and disappeared into the building.

 

Right in front of him was a woman. She had stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the door click open behind her. He had to be fast. He pulled out the gun and held a Finger to the Lips on his mask before telling her to get down on the ground. He was barely done fastening the cable tie as he heard a voice.

 

"Freeze! Drop your weapons right now!"

 

In an instant he was on his feet, pulling the scared woman up with him as a shield.

 

"Back off or i swear to god i WILL kill her!"

 

"No you won't, you got no way out, asshole! The tipp was right after all, a Clown on his own.", the SWAT member sneered, obviously very happy to have caught one member of the infamous crew.

"Now drop it. We've got snipers moving in and a whole lot of backup on the way, you can't win."

 

"Watch me!", he hissed when he shoved the woman into the SWAT Unit. He was fast, one of his best perks. Fast and highly intelligent, adaptive in all situations. He aimed his gun at the glass behind him and took the leap out onto the street. Cursing he got up, hearing the sirens and shouted Commands. He had to get away.

 

He hadn't even finished the thought as the air was torn apart by bullets. Houston zigzaged his way behind a small wall. There he took a deep breath and then ran as fast as he could to the next cover, where he knew he could get into an empty building and from the inner yard of this building into the sewers. Not the most pleasurable escape route, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

 

He had almost reached the safety of the corner he aimed for, as a sharp pain and the impact of a bullet threw him off, quickly followed by a second hit. It took all of his willpower not to pass out then and there. He had to get away he just had to...

 

" WE GOT HIM BOYS! MOVE IN! GET HIM!!!"

 

In his mind, the seconds it took for him to get into the abandoned building, felt like hours. He had to take precautions. They would be close behind. He jammed a old pipe into the doorhandles, that would keep them out for a bit. Enough time to head further into the building. Left..right...it all was a blurr, his body moved in automated mode, his mind fully occupied with ignoring the white sharp pain, that shot through his left hip and shoulder with every step.

 

With each of said steps it grew harder to keep his eyes focused, to will his body into obedience. There. The Red Door...He wouldn't get caught, not here... no..he rather fell through the door than really pushing it open. Almost.. Almost...Tracks..keep them off your Tracks..his eyes fell on the red drips that followed his every step. Shit. Without hesitation he ripped the bottom of his white shirt apart and pushed the rags into the bullet holes, to keep them from giving away his position. He almost passed out, his vision fading dangerously. The only thing that kept him from screaming in agony, was the thought of his makeshift family. He couldn't do this to them. He MUSTN'T get caught. Never. So he continued on, pulled the heavy cover away from the entrance to the sewers and let himself slide in the narrow hole bevore pulling the cover back.

 

He allowed himself a second to breath. Houston could hear the banging on the door he barricaded...it wouldn't take them long to get through. It was so tempting to just..close his eyes..just for a second..but no. He shook his head.

 

"Get...yourself together man.."

 

He lowered himself deeper into the darkness, there he took off his jacket and threw it into the manure that floated by in the small rivers of the canal and flipped on the small taclight on his weapon. Whatever search dogs they had.. this would mislead them for sure...his gloves were thrown into another turn of the tunnels..tie into yet another..all leading away from the route he actually planned on taking. The remains of his shirt were the last distraction, he rubbed the bloodied cloth over a corner here and there before finally getting rid of it in a parallel tunnel to the one he wanted to take. That should do the trick..

 

The tunnels seemed to strech out endlessly...when he finally made it into his own little safehouse, he didn't even remember the last minutes before he got there. He just slumped down into a shabby old Armchair. That was when he finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the Long wait. i had like a major writing block. Sorry. I hope you enjoy this even though it's a short one. Still getting used to the whole "publishing things i write" thingy. Thank you all for bearing with me here :D


	5. Chapter 5

\--- A Month earlier. ---

 

"What do you mean, he left?", Chains looked at Dallas, his Hands on the small kitchencounter.

 

"He wrote that he had jobs of his own and he felt like he wasn't needed here anymore, that we would be fine without him and that he'd return to his own business.", Dallas rubbed his forehead. He seemed older than he really was, concern apparent on his face.

 

"Not like we would need him anyway. Let him do what he wants, he's old enough.", Hox just dismissed the whole ordeal with a lazy wave of his hand.

 

"Oh you think? New to me, that we take someone to the team if he or she wasn't a ressourcefull addition. Without him, you wouldn't be able to stand here and be a wiseass.", Chains was a little agitated.

 

"The thing with the C4? Oh yeah that was totally not something Wolf would've measured better.", Hox shot back.

 

"When you're all done bitching, we could elaborate on how to deal with this.", Nathan sighed.

 

"Easy. We have another Ghost. And she's as good as one can be in this Job. No need to worry.", for Hoxton the case was closed. They had Clover and in his mind she sure as hell was the best they could get. Maybe it was better that this distracting little wanker was gone now. Living his own little life somewhere far away. Yeah that sounded good. Less tiring than having to deal with those damn puppydog eyes every so often and the constant mother hen behaviour.

 

"Hox, may i talk to you? Just for a sec..? Yeah..?", now Chains was visibly in a bad mood and dragged the Fugitive along, out of the safehouse into the small backyard. He vividly remembered the night when he snuck out here. Ah! Distracting even if the little shit wasn't here! Bloody hell.

 

"What? Am i a dog now, that you can drag along on a leash?", he crossed his arms and eyed the taller man warily.

 

"How 'bout you bein' a little less of an ass around Dallas? Huh? You're his best friend, man! We're talkin' 'bout his brother after all. You don't even know what he did for Dallas.. When you weren't around! He kept him sane, you insensitive dick. He was the one, to drag Dallas back down, when he was up and about to just singlehandedly storm Hazelton! And how would that have turned out? Huh? No one could keep him here, but his little brother you know? So be a LITTLE bit more sensitive. We all know you don't like him and frankly we all had enough of this bullshit. With the bullshit BOTH of you pulled. We all got the picture bohoo he took your mask and you were pissed! Rightly so for a part but on the other hand HE got YOU back out! Think about that. HE was there to keep Dallas save and with him all of us, until Bain had figured out how to get you. He admired you Hox, he was PROUD to wear your mask, to help until you were back. He never intended to just take your place, so we could let you rot...Man i missed you and i really like you as much as one can possibly like a friend, but sometimes man... sometimes you're just an asshole, you know that?", and with that Chains returned to the others in the kitchen.

 

Proud...? He had been PROUD to wear his mask...? Well that was a new one. For all he knew, he always figured Houston hated him as much in return as he did, if not more.

 

For a while Hoxton stayed outside, silently lighting a cigarette and brooding over what he had just heard. Chains was right..he was Dallas best friend after all...and frankly he did a pisspoor job of that so far...this had to change. He had to change. He wasn't just looking out for himself anymore. And it was hard to let go of that. It had kept him safe for so long now.

 

He took his time, to finish his smoke before he went back in. And did something that everyone surprised. He apologized.

 

 

 

 

 

\--- Present Day. ---

 

 "DALLAS!...Aw shite!", Hoxton had his eyes glued to his cellphone, only two words on the screen. "DALLAS FOR FUCKS SAKE!", still he got no answer. No one seemed to be in the safehouse but him. Shite. Again he read the two words.

 

Home. Help.

 

At first he didn't even recognize the number and he was pretty sure Houston didn't mean to send this to him. But now he did and he had to do something. After who knows how long, with no sign of life, this was the worst possible message.

 

Where the fuck was home for that little twat anyway, when he wasn't here?!

Hoxton sprang to his feet, left the cup of tea on the small livingroom table and opened Dallas' door. Somewhere had to be a hint where his brother was. There! On his desk a small book.

He hurriedly thumbed through it. Z. That had to be it. Not far. But still far enough to worry him if he would be able to make it in time.

He rushed back out of the room, running up into the bathroom to grab everything they had on firstaid. Faster, faster. It had to be bad if he didn't even care WHO he was asking for help.

 

On his way to the little tworoom apartment, Hox send messages to Chains, as well as Dallas to come as fast as they could.

 

When he entered the building he didn't even bother to knock, he pulled out his lockpick and tried to make his way in. Bloody hell the little twat knew how to keep a door locked. Even with his skilled hands, it took him more time than he wanted to admit.

 

"Come on now..", he muttered under his breath, before he finally managed to get the door open, only to be stopped by a little chain.

 

"You gotta be kiddin' me..!", now he threw every caution in the wind. Houston had to be home, for the chain to be put in and he didn't even make a sound when he had pushed the door open. He had no time for this and so he slammed his shoulder into the door, effectively breaking the chain.

 

He feared what he would find, once he had crossed the little path into the main room of the small apartment. Holding his breath he turned the corner, finding himself facing the back of an armchair, a bloodied hand lifeless at it's side. Down on the floor, a cellphone in a small puddle of crimson liquid. Shite.

 

He sprinted in the room, trying to gain a better overview on what he had to deal with. Two fingers pressed to the side of Houstons neck, he checked for his vital signs. Thank god. There was a weak pulse, barely palpable.

 

Two entry wounds. One in his left shoulder, one in his left hip. He could only guess, but since he couldn't find an exit wound the bullet must be lodged inside bone or muscle. No bullet in his shoulder at least. On the other hand two holes where blood could ooze out. What to do now. He never had to treat another person, just his own wounds. Damn how did Dallas do this shite?

 

His hands were trembeling as he tried to get the wound on Houstons shoulder cleaned. Smart bastard had put something in there as it seemed. Good. He carefully pulled the cloth out of the wound, cursing as the blood now dripped freely. Calm. He just needed to stay calm, he knew that.

He quickly gathered everything to apply pressure onto the wound, a makeshift bandage until Dallas got here. he just had to stop the bleeding until they got here. He didn't dare to move Houston any further, his sitting postition putting pressure on his hip wound. He only applied a piece of gauze and kept his hand firmly pressed against his hip, waiting for SOMEONE to show up.

As the seconds ticked by the possibility of actually losing a crewmember sank in.

 

As hard as he tried to tell himself that he hated the man in front of him, he wasn't so sure of that anymore. He had dropped everything and ran as soon as he saw the message. There wasn't even the slightest hesitation. It had to be because this was Dallas baby brother. That had to be it. For sure.

 

He shuddered when the warm liquid reached his fingers, but he didn't let go. In fact he just pressed harder.

 

"Don't you dare, bleed out on me...", he murmured.

 

Now that he had said it, he realised how much the thought of losing someone scared him. No. Not someone. Of actually losing this distracting puppydog-eyed little shite. It was one thing to try and tell yourself you didn't mind if a certain someone was away just living their life. It was a whole other deal to face the possibility of really never being able to see someone again or talk to them.

And that scared him even more.

 

"Zac?!", after a good 15 minutes he finally heard Dallas voice.

 

"We're here! Back here! Hurry!"

 

"What the fuck happened?!", Dallas crouched down beside him and tried to figure out which kind of treatment was needed. His slim fingers worked fast, unwrapping what Hox had put on Houstons shoulder.

 

"I don't have a clue, i just got the message and ran as fast as i could. He was like that when i came here!"

 

He couldn't help but be impressed how fast and precise Dallas worked. He had seen it so many times before, but even in this situation, with his little brother being the one to need immediate medical attention, he kept his cool and worked as good as ever.

 

"If there's anything i can do..."

 

"No..just...just let me work, keep your hands on the wound..that's all...just don't let him bleed to death...i'm impressed you even went here and didn't just call me about this..."

 

"Look, i know i've been an arsehole but that's no reason to let somebody die allright? I'm sorry i've been so troublesome the past few weeks. I really am but why would you think i'd ever hesitate to help?", he couldn't help but feel a little hurt.

 

"Maybe i should've tried harder. He was worried about you."

 

"The little shit talked?", the words were out before he even realised it. Shite. "Sorry i just...ah forget it."

 

"You really are ready to blow up at any given moment. Take it easy Jim."

 

"Easy for you to say. And i'm fine. Worry about your brother not me."

 

Soon enough Dallas was done mending his brothers shoulder and turned his attention to the second wound. Now Chains barged in and quickly shooed away Hoxton. He was more used to the sight and knew how to effectifely help Dallas. So Hox couldn't do much else then leave them to their task at hand.

 

He was staring at himself in the small bathroom mirror. Still rinsing his hands. The blood just didn't want to fade. It sickened him to watch the clear water turn red. He knew blood tended to look like more than it actually was and still he couldn't shake the feeling that this was too much. Too much of the precious liquid that kept an organism alive.

 

Why had they all to tell him what the little twat did behind his back? It was distracting to keep thinking about those things. He didn't want that. It was so much easier to keep on hating. To cling to the one thing that made him strong enough to fight and keep fighting in prison. To get out and get that son of a bitch. He didn't want to know that there was someone who cared...someone who actually gave a fuck about his well being. Especially not the one he picked to hate and swore himself to do so forever. He didn't need those shitty feelings of guilt. Of worry. He didn't want to care. And yet here he was, the edge of the sink clenched between his fingers.

There was so much he couldn't let anyone know. Not ever. Or else they'd never stop feeling guilty. They weren't, it had been his decision. His alone. Now he had to bear with the consequences the same way. Alone.

 

At least that was what he was trying to tell himself.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Hoxton volunteered to stay by the injured man's side. Much to the surprise of Chains and Dallas but neither of them wanted to debate the topic any further. The Crewboss gave him quick instructions on what to do and what not to do and how he should deal with Houston when he woke up.

 

Now the brit found himself seated in a chair beside Houstons bed. He noticed how clean the small apartment was. No not clean almost sterile. No personal items. He had always figured Houston would be the type of guy to go all luxus and richboy style when he was alone. The interior of his home wasn't bad at all. actually it had a kind of warmth behind it. Every piece of furniture a little old, probably saved before it would've been destroyed, but still everything kind of..matched.

 

He shook his head. The hell was he doing, brooding over the way Dallas' baby brother was living. He glanced down at the pale face. Before he even realised what he was doing, he had laid a hand on Houstons cheek, which quickly dropped to his neck. To check his pulse. Yes. That was what he wanted to do. Nothing else. And why the hell was his heart throwing a tantrum right now? He needed to calm down. Fucking twat. Got him all distracted and pissed off, without even being awake.

 

He sighed and folded his arms before his chest. Shite this was going to be a long night. Before long he just shut his eyes for a while, listening to the small but steady breaths beside him. He would've never admitted it, but those small sounds were soothing in a way, inducing a kind of peacefullness he didn't even know he had missed.

 

He awoke to a silent groan and a disorientated Houston, who desperatly tried to find his weapon. Quickly he stopped the Ghost from wiggling around, hands on his chest and uninjured shoulder.

 

"Whoa, take it easy, Loverboy! Easy! You're fine, you're at home and safe. Deep breaths!", he tried to calm the younger man down. He didn't have much fight in him anyway.

 

"..Hoxton..?", now he seemed to have understood, who it was to hold him down. "Why..the fuck are you even here..?", Houston let himself fall back, trying to keep a straight face, but his shallow breaths and racing heartbeat gave away how bad he was feeling, all thanks to the anemic state he was in.

 

"Yeah it's me, surprise, sunshine.", Hox sulked.

 

"Fuck...just shoot me...", Houston let his right arm flop over his eyes and snorted displeased.

 

"Oy, you twat i'm the motherfucking hero in shining armor, a little more "thank you" and a little less "fuck you" would be nice!"

 

"Just give me some painkillers.........please.", the ghost sighed silently.

 

For once Hoxton did what he was asked for.

 

"Now sunshine, i'm just gonna go ahead and address the elefant in the room. What the FUCK did you do? And even more important why the fuck did you even leave in the first place?"

 

"I'm tired...please...just save it for later...", Houston groaned. Sure. Of all people Hoxton had to be the one, he woke up to. The one who was the reason why he left..well..part of the reason..a big part.

 

"Sure you are tired, you lost a bit of blood, you twat. Anemia is fun isn't it? I have to tell the others so just spit it out."

 

"Well what do you think? A heist gone south, they knew i was coming so they got me. End of the line. I got away, that's all that matters.", he turned his face to the wall. Greyish white in front of his eyes was better than the person he was already thinking about too much.

 

"And you don't think that's important? That your job was rigged? Bloody hell..", Hox pulled out his cell and messaged someone. Houston figured it had to be his brother. Whatever.

 

"You know once you're back, we settle this, allright? Dallas is probably going to lay low and keep his ear to the ground. We'll find out who did this.", the brit didn't even seem to notice Houstons baffled stare, until he looked up from the shining cell display.

 

"What? Is there something on my face? Am i still pretty?", Hox half joked.

 

"Once i'm back..? I never said i was going to come back, there was a reason i left, you know!", he foolishly tried to sit up only to fall back, face contorted in pain.

 

"Well, what else would you want to do? Of course you are coming back, hell i hate to admit it, but it seems like the Crew needs you. Especially Dallas. And since we're at it. Why the hell not? This "i have my own business" bullshit obviously went south."

 

A humorless chuckle escaped Houstons lips. "Out of all people...really.. i thought you'd throw a party once i'm gone. I'm surprised i'm still breathing at this point."

 

"Why does everybody consider me a heartless arsehole now?"

 

"'Cause most of the time you ARE one?"

 

"Ouh, Fuck off!"

 

"See?", Houston settled back a bit in his pillows. "You want the truth?"

 

"No princess, i'm asking because i just like awkward conversation so much.", the brit rolled his eyes. "Of course i want the truth, if i want a sodding fairytale i'll go and ask Wolf to bloody read me one!"

 

"Allright then...I left because of you.", Houston watched his words sink in.

 

"You..what?", so this little shite ran and got himself shot while doing so. Congratulations. Another thing to feel guilty for. Wait. To feel guilty for? Why the hell would he do that? No matter the reason, he did. And that he didn't like. At all. This was confusing enough the way it was. He never cared about things like that. Everyone had their own will after all and if they wanted to do stupid shite like that so be it, but with Houston... it was different. It had hurt to hear those words. To be responsible.

 

"I always knew i was there to keep your seat warm, until you returned. Now you have and i'm out. Period. I know that the others will always just see me as 'replacement Hoxton'. It may be selfish but i wanted to belong somewhere, allright? To be an individual, not just a mere replacement. I couldn't be a real part to any of this, hell not even part of my brothers life. You know, being alone hurts less than having something you want always right in front of you, but never being able to actually get it. All he did was talk about you. How to get you out. For a time, i was content with the fact that he needed me, so he wouldn't kill himself while trying something stupid. I wanted to know so badly who it was, he would do all those things for. I thought...maybe...maybe if i'm just a little like that i would be able to be his brother again. Someone to rely on. But no. There you were. Insulting me from the second we met. He didn't care. You were back that was all that mattered. Fair enough. What's two years in comparison to a friendship like this. So i'm backing out. He has you now to keep an eye out for him. And since we don't get along, all the better that i left. You were part of this first, i know that and i accept that. So i made room. And i won't change that. I will never be you. No matter how bad i once wanted to be.", the last bits were barely audible as Houston turned away, staring at the wall again.

 

To Hoxton, the younger man seemed somehow..hurt..and not because of the physical wounds. Something clicked inside of the Fugitive.

 

"Just stop..."

 

"Pardon..?", now Houston looked at the brit again.

 

"I said stop! Just...just come back. I...", he paused unsure of what he even wanted to express. "I never wanted you gone, allright? The hell i don't even know why this all pisses me off so much! And even more so what the fuck would i be supposed to do, if you pulled another solo and get shot again? huh? What if the shot doesn't miss? What about that? If you die? And don't give me the 'I know what i'm doing shite. I've been there. I knew what i was doing and yet i didn't know shite.", his voice was different now. Worried.

 

"Well then I'd be dead. That's the job. We all know the risks."

 

"Isn't it easy to just say that?", a humorles laugh was all he had for this.

 

"What do you want to hear? I regret leaving cause it was for an Asshole like you? You won't hear me say that. Ever.", he held Hoxtons gaze for a while before he turned his head away, creating a little more distance between them.

 

"No i want you to never fucking do stupid shite like that again! Did it ever cross your mind what something like that does to the people around you?! It's bloody easy to say 'yeah i'd be dead so what'! For the one who dies everything just ends! Snap! Over! We would be the ones to bury you! Your brother would have to bury you! And once these matters are settled there still remain horrible things like memories! Regrets! Guilt! How the hell should i be able to look into a mirror ever again?! If you had died there if... if this went just a bit different..i would have been left to live with your blood on my hands! I sure as hell don't want that..!", he had left his place on the chair, sitting down next to Houston, staring at the younger one in agitation. As he had said it he realised just how true those words were. Now he had to admit it to himself, as much as he hated it,but he cared a big deal about this little twat.

 

"Regrets..huh?...And what regrets would that be, Hoxton? hm? Not calling me every fucking unpleasant nickname there is? Why do you even give a flying fuck?! For all i know you 'd probably be the happiest man alive, once i'm gone!", now he met the other mans eyes again, cold and defensive.

 

With an angry almost growl Hox now closed every remaining space between them, slightly bowing his head down and tilting the younger ones face up with one hand on his cheek, before his lips met Houstons. It was a rough, desperate kiss that only lasted for a short moment before Hoxton pulled away.

 

"See...you go and care and help and sacrifice things and do whatever bloody fucking else it is you do to me..and still you have no clue what others actually think....You piss me off more than i can say...Fuck you and your shitty personality...I was happy with just resenting and hating a man i didn't know. And you blew it. Why couldn't you just stay away from me and not give a fuck about me or anyone for that matter. It would've been easier if you'd be less empathetic.",he quietly stated as he let his hands fall down. He had just acted. He hadn't even thought twice about what he was doing. And now he had to deal with this shite too. So this was why he had been on his mind and annoying the hell out of him lately.

 

The Ghost just stared at him completely frozen in place.

 

"Forget it. Just forget this ever happened.", he just shook his head and quietly left the room, leaving Houston behind in the dark small bedroom, who tried to figure out what the hell just happened.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Houston didn't see Hox again for two weeks after that. He just vanished as it seemed. For the first days there was always someone there to check up on him. The next one was his brother though. After he was done lecturing him about how he was not supposed to be up and making himself a cup of coffee, Dallas got him to sit down on the small kitchentable.

 

"So how are you today? I figure still feeling dizzy and having a racing heart with the smallest exercise? "

 

"Yup...That'll fade soon though. Just a metter of time. Look...I'm sorry i fucked up this bad."

 

"Don't be. We will find out whoever was trying to get you there. Not your fault. I know you can do this on your own."

 

"So you talked to Hoxton then...", his gaze awkwardly shiftet to his mug.

 

"Sure i did...", Dallas paused when he noticed how uncomfortable Houston seemed to be with this. "Why, is there a problem..? You're not again on the insulting bullshit, are you?"

 

"No! God...no...no we're not. That's not it, i uhm....can i....can i ask you something, Nate..?", the younger one now glanced up, still visibly torn.

 

"Yeah sure...What's wrong? Don't make me worry here...", Nathan now sat down on the other side of the table, a cup of coffee of his own now in front of him. He tried to figure out what it was that his younger brother was trying to say here.

 

"Shit i don't know how to say this...this may sound odd but, uh...Could it...be that Hoxton..by any chance.. the he is in the slightest...ehrm..."

 

"Spit it out already. An Asshole? Yes pretty much all the time. Can he be nice? Yes. If he wants to. Is this often the case? Sometimes. Foremost if you're alone with him. So what.. what is it with him? Is he what?", now he was getting impatient.

 

"....gay..?", as soon as he said it he tried to evade Nates dumbfounded gaze as best as possible.

 

"Why the fuck would you want to know that? Well... yeah i guess he had a thing with men and woman alike here and there, does that bother you?", now he was getting protective of his best friend, Houston could hear the dwelling accusation right there.

 

"No of course not i was just...wondering.. that's all", he raised his hand a little to appease his brother. Maybe it was just fair that Nate assumed he had a problem with something like that. To be honest he never told his brother what he was doing and more importantly who he was doing things with, when he was out on his own for a night of drinking.

 

"Where the fuck did this come from now? I'm not even joking why the hell would you even suspect that? It's not like he's skipping around with a rainbowflag or something like that", Nathan eyed him very closely now.

 

"As i said i just...i had a feeling i guess?", Houston was thankful as the one who kept him company for the last weeks made his presence known.

 

A small miaow echoed from his window. A lean black cat was sitting there. Well not completely black, he had white socks ans a white mark covering the left side of his face that now gave him a seemingly annoyed look, the way he was watching the two humans.

 

"Bandit!", blessed be this cat! A little longer and his sometimes too intelligent brother might would've figured something out Houston wasn't yet willing to tell. Not to anyone, especially not Dallas. Houston flinched when he got up to let the small feline in. He somehow always managed to get on the fire exits metal steps and what not to get up to his apartment. Bandit was by all means no normal cat. some would've even called him ugly with his roughed up ears and a little bit too short tail. He was a fighter. scars under his smooth fur.

 

As soon as the window was open, he hopped inside. Houston didn't try to pet him. He knew the small fellow was easily scared and sometimes mistook a hand raised in his direction as an attack. There were more than a few people who didn't want the "filthy and ugly thing" in their environment. So they chased him away. Even more so when he wouldn't comply and let himself be petted by strangers.

 

"You have a cat? Are you serious, Zac? You always hated those...and Bandit? Really? The cat's name is Bandit?", Nathan raised an eyebrow and watched as his brother put down two small bowls, one he filled with water, the other with the contents of a can, probably catfood. "You even buy regular catfood for this...cat?"

 

"And what's wrong with that, huh? They are good at keeping one company, you know...", Houston waited until Bandit was beside him on the countertop, first sniffing the bowls then miaowing again before he licked the back of his hand almost as if to say thank you. Again he didn't raise his hand to touch the cat.

 

"Sometimes i'm amazed, how much you changed, you know..? Not in a bad way, really...it's just..seing your baby brother living his life is kind of strange. When you were younger you'd always ask me for help and cling to me whenever you could..", Dallas eyed the cat again. "You're not really close huh?"

 

"We are...he just doesn't like being touched if he's not ready for it. He gets scared easily. You just have to give him his time. He had to fight really hard for and in his life..", Houston evaded the underlying question and foremost the topic of their past. There had been many things he wanted to forget or at least wished were different. Both man watched as the small cat now started to purr after it had eaten and pressed its head into Houstons Hand. "See...?

He just has to pick his own pacing for things...", lovingly he ruffled the cats fur before softly scratching its neck. "He usually doesn't do this though...he knows when i really need some cheering up", Houston smiled softly, resting his hand on Bandits back, who now returned to the water bowl, slowly lapping up the liquid as if to savour every drop of it.

 

"Kinda reminds me of someone.", Dallas now smirked. "You always had that understanding vibe to you. No wonder the ittle fellow opened up to you. Want to get into the whole pet shop business thingy?",he now grinned.

 

"Jerk..", he couldn't help but smile a little.

 

"Now now. And the little one just comes and goes as he pleases?"

 

"Yep. Better this way. You know..i always leave the window open a bit so he can climb in and out.. so he's never trapped. He gets scared if he is...and if i'm not here he needs to be able to get out.. so he can look out for himself if need be."

 

"You really thought this through huh?", Dallas took a small sipt of his coffee.

 

"I did....", for a while, he watched the cat silently. "He asked me to come back...Hoxton did. Out of all people...", he paused for a moment. "Do you even need me now? With the Crew growing and all."

 

"I told you he's not as bad of a guy as it may seem. And about that second part..I could always use a hand. And more importantly someone i can trust. I'd take you back. They all would. We need someone to bring a little order to this bunch of chaots. You were always good at that. Keeping them from ripping each others heads of.", his brother smiled again. He was happy to see it. It was way too seldom that Dallas laughed or smiled at all.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was the next day, that the brit showed up at his doorstep again, his expression one of concern.

 

"Oi. The big boss send me. Seems like it's worse than we thought.", he just brushed by Houston and flopped down on his sofa. "You don't happen to have a cup o' tea?"

 

"Hi to you too...", Houston answered while he watched the other mans entrance into his flat. He closed the door and walked behind the small kitchen counter. Good thing he could see the other man from here. He took the opportunity to place bandits bowls on the floor and as soon as he did he felt the familiar press against his legs and heard a muffled purring. Ha. Important persons first. At least one here had manners.

 

"So? What's the deal? We all gonna die or something?", he joked as he glanced up at the brit again. Slowly the feeling came back to his fingers, that now worked on the cup of tea. For a while he had feared the shot had severed a nerve or something, but he was on his way up now. Since Dallas had insisted that he moved his limbs again as fast as possible.

 

"Nah, though we might have a clue who wants us gone. Who talked. And with us i mean me. You shouldn't have taken my mask, lad. Brings bad luck now."

 

"So you're saying they wanted you, back at the jewellry store, is that it? Comforting. I'll still wear it though.", a bit of stubborn pride rang in his words. It was his mask now.

 

"Well do as you please with that old thing. And yep. That seems to have been the plan. Bain is working on it... though he has to be extra careful. I have some other people involved now, good people. They'll help figure this all out. Seems like it's one of our closer contacts in Crime.net."

 

Houston set the tea down in front of Hoxton, who just nodded slightly, his way to say thank you, he figured. After that he let himself fall onto the new armchair he had. The old one had been ruined with his blood all over it.

 

"So we stay put and wait until we know who it is. Wouldn't be safe to do any jobs at the risk of getting us all killed or captured.", he pondered.

 

"Yup. And since it's my turn to nanny your sorry ass, here i am. Don't play with the forks and knives, lil' one.", the brit smirked.

 

"Very funny.", he considered pulling a joke about Hox not being allowed to play with fire but dismissed it, considering his burn marks. That would've been a little too much below the belt. Now that he had the time to actually look at Hoxton he couldn't help but wonder. Sure his face was permanently scared, but still there were small lines around his eyes and lips that told of a man that always had a smile. Not that he would show it much now, veiled by new lines, those of concern, anxiety maybe even fear.

 

He was ripped out of his thoughts when he heard the brit cheer up.

 

"Well hello little fella!", and with that Hoxton had already picked up bandit and scooped him up in his arms.

 

"Careful he gets scared when you just....pick him...up?",his warning died down as he watched with disbeliefe, how bandit purred and rubbed his head on every inch of the brits neck and face he could reach. Any other person would've been covered in scratchmarks by now.

 

"What the...?", the sight of the otherwise maybe intimidating thief, getting all cuddly with a cat took a while to settle in. Even if he had taken a photo no one would've believed him. It made him smile though. Yet another side of the infamous Hoxton. Houston couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he watched those two. In a way they were terribly similar to each other.

 

"Never figured you're a cat person...well...any kind of animal really.", the younger man cocked his head to one side a little.

 

"You fucking kiddin' me? Of course i like animals you twat. They don't bite you in the arse after they were nice to you. They're honest, they show you exactly what they think of you.. how could one not like that? tze.", he shook his head and continued to pet the cat in his arms, a soft smile on his lips. He seemed content, at peace.

 

Houston caught himself staring a little longer than he should before he cleared his throat. The memory of those lips still lingering on his own. He really shouldn't remember THAT right now.

 

"Well to sum the whole thing up, we have to wait and keep an eye out for each other now. Safehouse is crawling with crew members, all working.", the brit leaned back a little, getting comfortable with his new friend in the soft cushions, cup of tea forgotten.

 

"So you hightailed out of there.", Houston mused. The luxuries of having a flat for himself.

 

"Oi, what would you do if Wolf started to dream of Karaoke night?! Fuck me, i'm not going to embaress myself in front of all those people. He wouldn't even spare Jacket."

 

"So you rather babysit me then, huh? What an honor. I'm less of a pain in the ass than Karaoke night...thought you were a pretty good singer though..no fan of having an audience?", interesting since Hox never seemed like the shy type.

 

"I sing when and where i want. Not to humor others. Singing is personal allright? Just mine. Nobody else is to listen if i don't wat anyone to listen. Not going back there until at least 2 in the morning."

 

"Well, i can't send a man in dire need of shelter away, huh? What about a movie or two and pizza? That a good plan?", he didn't know what even posessed him to propose such things but now the words were out. And to be honest, it didn't even sound as bad now that he thought about it.

 

"I'm in. Not going back there anyways. Would've hit the bars or some shite if you threw me out. Anywhere but the safehouse i'm fine with. But no chick-flick bollocks."

 

 

 

An hour later and they were both seated on Houstons sofa, who now balanced a laptop on his knees and started to get Avatar playing on it.

 

Hoxton still had bandit in his arms, the little one didn't even so much as try to move for one bit, obviously more than happy with his new warm and cuddly spot. The brit maneuvered another bite of pizza into his mouth, carefully evading the small cat paws on the way.

 

"This better be good, heard all the rumors how insane this should be. All fancy animated and shite. Typical Pocahontas story though."

 

"It kinda is yeah.. but you know even if it's a known story and all it can be really good if its staged right. I mean.. to be honest there aren't so many stories to tell really. You can all break it down to a few selected models.. like..hero ventures from a to b. Or... Hero grows personally and achieves whatever the hell...or...if you want is forced to change because of others.. or changes the world in his way or whatever. That's all there really is.", Houston explained excited.

 

"You like that, don't you? The whole storytelling stuff?", he couldn't help but smile. How strange for a grown man and more than handy thief to have a thing for storytelling. And a bit cute maybe. Though he'd never admit that. He liked to listen to Houston as he talked about things he found something thrilling in, even though he may not shared that interest. He just felt like maybe he could give it a try, the way Houston had put it. Seemed interesting enough.

 

It was almost 1:30a.m. when the movie finished and Houston took a glance over at the brit. He had enjoyed the movie a great bit but somewhere between the destruction of the home tree and the end he must've fallen asleep, black fur ball still curled up on his slowly rising and falling chest. For a little while, he allowed himself to just watch the other man at the excuse that he was waiting for the laptop to shut down. Just a little bit he envied the cat for the close contact it was allowed to share with Hoxton before he kicked himself at how dumb that was. As if he'd be interested in anything like Houston. And that kiss? Well, to be honest he didn't know what to think of this till now. He probably just misinterpret something.

 

With the smallest of sighes he got up and pulled the thin blanket he kept on his couch over the sleeping mans figure, careful not to wake him or bandit. Time to head to bed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting to a climax point in the story....just saying~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little different. Let me know what you think of the change. Thank you all for reading this far. :D

 

After a failed attempt to sleep for about half an hour, Houston had gotten up again, now leaning against the headboard of his bed, reading, the wood cool against his bare back.

Or at least he tried to. His mind tended to wander though.

Never resting long enough in one place to actually concentrate on what he was seeing on the white pages before him.

Before long he tossed the book aside and fumbled for a sketchbook and his pencils.

 

A pillow on his lap, sketchbook draped on top, he began to mindlessly scribble away at the blank white space.

 

 

 

 

 

He was interrupted by a paw on his sketchbook. Bandit paced around on his bed now, staring at him, running to the door, then hopping back up.

It was strange. He'd never seen him do this before.

When he had watched for a good minute, the cat seemingly grew impatient and resorted to biting into the leg of his sweatpants, tugging at it.

 

"Hey hey calm down tiger. What's the deal?"

 

Houston got up as he heard something that sounded like a strangled muffled cry, only stopping long enough to get his gun out of his nightstand.

Carefully he rounded the corner, scanning his environment for any immediate danger.

A low whimper from the couch where he had left Hoxton, let him drop his defenses.

It had been him. Of course. Who else would be in here, Zach scolded himself.

As the weapon was secured again, he put it under the waistband of his pants, rounding the last bit of the sofa.

He was greeted with the sight of a grown man, curled up into a ball, fingers digging violently into his own arms, there were dark glistening dots all over his shirt.

 

"Holy shit! Hoxton...Hox!", he quickly tried to pry the mans Fingers away, shaking him to get him to wake up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Fighting. He was fighting again.

They were trying to get him. He was easy prey. He knew that.

They didn't know he could handle some amateurs who thought they knew how to fistfight.

Noses broke under his fist, he could feel the warm trickling liquid on his knuckles. Good.

A hit into his still healing ribs.

No Air.

 

Burning. He was burning.

Red flashed before his closed eyes.

So many voices shouting. Screaming at him.

The iron grip of countless hands to keep him down.

 

Vulnerable. He felt so vulnerable.

There was nothing he could do, to pry away those hands on him.

To force away the contact he didn't want.

To get up from the cold tiles on the floor that so many men held him down on.

To stop the cold air from ghosting over his body, unprotected by orange fabric.

 

Hurting. He was hurting.

Pain was everywhere, he couldn't run.

Too many new injuries now accompanied the old ones, still in the process of healing.

It drained his strenght. His will to fight.

It got harder and harder to breathe. To force air into his lungs.

It was like trying to breath under water, something pooling inside of his chest, restricting the oxygen.

 

Waiting. He was waiting.

For the pain to be over.

For the Darkness to embrace him.

For the men to lose interest.

 

Motionless. He couldn't move.

Every attempt was in vain, the voices getting louder and yet he couldn't discern what they we're saying.

It sounded so full of malice, hate, anger, disdain, repulsed by what they saw.

Muffled like someone had wrapped his head in cotton.

 

Scared. He was feeling like a child again.

Unable to defend himself, praying to just fade into Oblivion.

Squirming in the hold of yet another pair of hands.

He couldn't do this any longer.

Not again.

 

He lashed out.

Gripping the throat of his attacker, pushing him down.

It would be his own end or the end of the man in his death grip.

He didn't know which of the two he wished for more.

 

He watched the squirming Prison guard.

Watched as blurry lines faded.

 

His mind processing that he was awake.

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was strange, how the first thing Houston thought was 'I'm sorry'. The moment it happened he knew that all of this anger all of this pain wasn't directed at him, but at someone or something in the dream of the man that was now over him. He was just genuinely sorry for whatever had been done to this man.

 

He struggled, tried to get the fugitive to full awareness, fingers still tightening painfully around his neck. He had pinned him down thouroughly, knees pressing down on his shoulders. There was no way he could lift the weight of a fullgrown man off of him in this position. All he could do was plead with what little breath he had left and grab at the wrists of Hoxtons unrelenting hands.

 

"Hox..! Stop!..Please!..James..!", the Name was almost inaudible, hardly a whisper and still it succeeded in snapping the man back to his senses. Hands lifting from Houstons throat, only to be replaced with his own as he fell into a coughing fit.

 

 

 

The brit was kneeling over him, still trying to figure out what had happened, before his eyes locked onto the darkening bruises on the tender skin of another person.

 

"I...I didn't mean to...I...", the words wouldn't come to him. Everything he wanted to say seemed meaningless. Words were complicated, they could be twisted and turned and missunderstood.

 

Something inside of him broke as he heard the small whimpering. He could see how the younger man tried to keep appearances up as if this wasn't a big deal. No pain at all. But he HAD hurt him. He had hurt him bad. His fingertips were shaking as he brought them down on Houstons left shoulder.

'I'm sorry'...why was this so hard to say. He had sworn to never let the demons of those years show. Yet he did. More than once. And all to that poor lad. 'sorry' didn't quite catch it.

He realised that blue eyes were on him, cautious, not sure how to act. The man below him still catching his breath, the misstreatment now obvious.

 

"I shouldn't...have startled you..my bad..", the younger one wheezed, even trying to shoot him a reassuring little smile. It was obvious that speaking was painful for him.

 

It just hurt all the more. He knew he wasn't one of the good guys. He'd never be. But there were lines. Lines he swore to himself never to cross. Misstrating someone like this was definitely out of his boundaries. He had been in this position. But at that time... the men holding him down hadn't stopped. Not for long at least. Only as long as it took for him not to die from the lack of oxygene and to not pass out.

 

His mind wandered in parallel with his fingertips. Tracing upwards now, gently ghosting over the bruised skin on Houstons throat. He could feel the soft thumping of blood under tender skin, pumping more crimson to the small veins he had destroyed, making his failure more evident. How the pace quickened. In fear he figured. But words were complicated. So he kept silent and went to get a glass of cool water to maybe ease a little bit of the pain he had inflicted on the younger. As if that would change anything.

 

The apartment felt too small all of a sudden. The claws of guilt and the need to just run forming a cage around his chest. He watched the water pour into the glas, feeling like he had been the one to almost get choked to death right now. But he had no right to complain. He never had. And he never would. This was what you got, when you turned to the life of a thief and at times even a murderer. He knew that he was one. Sure, there was always the promise to himself that he'd never kill unarmed civillians, but it would be delusional to think that Cops and Murkys didn't have families or loved ones. He had taken more than a few lifes. It was part of his job, he didn't gain any pleasure from the act of killing, but he still did it. So he had no right to complain. He deserved this. He had told himself this over and over. Yet here he was, struggeling. As if to remind him how true and real all of this was, and now that the adrenalin was subsiding, he started to feel the throbbing pain on his arms, where his nails had dug into skin. What a mess he created. He never wanted it to show, but his body seemed adamant on betraying him, on screaming "look what a wreck, what a coward!". He needed to breath, he needed to...to...

 

„Hox...“, the soft voice behind him startled him. He didn't dare to turn around. Suddenly very aware, that his hands were trembling.

 

„C'mon.“, the younger man gently dragged him to the door, leaving the cramped space that seemed too small, through dark corridors, out in the open. Out in the rain...When had it started to rain..?

 

When the first small droplets of cool water hit his skin, he felt Houston let go of his arm. He immediately wished for the warmth to return.

 

„Breathe...“, when he did, he noticeded he'd been holding his breath for a while. How was it possible for this man to know so damn bloody well what was going on. It irritated him.

But the cold fresh air, the rain, the soft rumbling of thunder...it helped. He could breath again. He wasn't locked up. He was free. Prison and all of its demons lay behind him now. For a while at least. The present. That was, what mattered. The outlines of a male figure holding its hands up to catch a few droplets of water, seemingly unfazed by the small rivers that flowed over the landscapes of his bare muscles. Why did he have to notice this now. Why was he wondering if the younger man was cold, why was he concerned that he could get ill like this. Why he cared less and less that this man saw him at his worst. Why that didn't make him run for the hills and why he wished and hoped that it never would. He didn't know. Or rather, he didn't want to know. To admit anything was dangerous.

 

 

 

When a lean warm hand was placed on his shoulder, he didn't shy away. He just turned around, a small reassuring smile on his lips. Houston then found himself face to face with Hoxton, maybe a bit closer than he would have thought, still he didn't mind. He just closed his arms around himself, against the slight breeze of the night.

 

„Better now..?“, his voice was still a little strained. He didn't get a response though. He didn't need one either. He could sense, that something had changed, for the better he hoped.

 

"I always..", he coughed quietly for a moment before he continued, " I always loved the rain...calms me down, helps me to focus...thought that maybe it'd help you too...seemed like you could use it..guess the weather god is working in our favor right now..", he laughed quietly before he was interrupted by another cough. He knew that this was just half of the truth. That the man in front of him had been close to a nervous breakdown in the small rooms of his home. It was the open night sky and the endlessness it provided that helped. But he wouldn't press that topic.

 

It was strange to see the burned side of Hoxtons face, glistening with the rain, his head slightly angled upwards and finding that the sight drew him in. The artist inside of him wanted to capture this moment of peace and in a way beauty. The scars caused by fire as visible evidence of his experiences. Never to vanish just maybe fading out someday, but always visible. Like a sign of the fire that hoxton still tormented in his mind, now calmed by the cool droplets of the rain. Very poetic in a way, he thought to himself. There was more to it he couldn't put into words.

 

"You wanna stay out here for a bit more..?..I could get you a coat or something..", like that would help, now that they both were drenched, he scolded himself as soon as he had made that offer. A longer silence followed after that, with the two man just standing side by side.

 

"Thank you...", the words were almost inaudible and his mind was still processing, when he was slowly pulled into a gentle embrace. For a moment he just forgot how to do basic human functions like breathing or moving at all and his heart joined in as he could swear it had stopped for a few seconds. After the initial shock there was warmth, even through the damp shirt Hoxton wore, he could feel it. It felt safe, and yet he sensed that this was more for Hoxtons sake than for his own. That the fugitive needed the assurance. His body acted before his mind did, as he returned the embrace slowly, gripping at the wet fabric. He had never liked those unnecessary physical contacts, had straight up hated it if it came out of nowhere. But right now, he couldn't think of anything else than how it felt right. Important even. Important for what though?

 

Neither of the men wanted to move. Time just had to wait.

 

Houston watched as one hand lifted and placed itself on his neck, again tracing the ugly choking marks. He knew it had been an accident. He had been scared, yes. But he would live and it hadn't been that bad. He worried more about Hox, how those marks seemed to unsettle him to the core. The ghost wished he could take those horrendous memories away, whatever they were. They couldn't be good ones. He was still in his thoughts as warm breath ghosted over the crook of his neck, before he could feel the slow drip of small warm raindrops.

 

He tightened his arms, determined to chase away all the bad, to be a safe haven as long as the fugitive needed it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhm...maaaybe...i should warn right here that the next chapter can be counted as NSFW...Maybe a little explicit...So if some of you are not into that...sorry!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE warned! NSFW content incoming. There are mentions of past abuse/rape it's really subtle i hope, but i want to warn about that anyway. 
> 
> Be prepared. 
> 
> For anyone who's interested, the song i was listening to, while writing this is: Red - Pieces. Enjoy.

The man in his arms was shivering by the time it had stopped raining, still refusing to let go, subconsciously holding on to the nearest source of warmth. That was the only way Hoxton could explain, why the younger hadn't pushed him away already. And he had every reason to. Invading personal space, being everything but the man he so often played in front of everybody.

He was so pitifully weak right now, it was pathetic, but still...still he didn't feel in danger, or like he had to proof something or stand his ground. He was just...himself.

 

His heart begged him to never let go. Told him that he had to hold on to this warmth, that seemed to seep through the boundaries of his skin, deeper, where all the ugly dark and cold shadows lurked. That he needed more of it to mend the many wounds he carried.

 

But the rain coated skin beneath his fingers was cold. So cold. That wouldn't do. He needed this man to be allright, to be...happy.

 

He needed to be closer, his mind throwing aside all care as his heart took the reigns.

Slowly he walked them both backwards, trapping Houston against the wall of the apartment block.

He could see the uncertainty in those seemingly endless blue eyes, not sure what the brit was doing or how he should react. Still no move to push him away though, his hands even still lingered in the fabric of his soaked shirt. That was all he needed.

 

He bowed down a bit, capturing Houstons slightly parted lips in a kiss. It was nothing like the first time. He still didn't know why he did it, but it sure as hell felt right. He had kissed many a guy and maybe even more women but it had never felt like this...there had never been a connection just a mere bodily attraction to sate a primal need. Kissing had been nice and all most of the time, but still just a formality. He had never wanted to be this close to anyone just for the sake of it. This was different. So much more than just lips touching. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even more so when the smallest little moan involuntarily escaped Houston as he gave in to the sensation, pulling him closer and actually returning the kiss.

 

The sudden realisationof how broken he really was hit him, how this younger man could've taken the last pieces and smashed them if he had rejected him. How he still could.

 

Roughed up but gentle hands roamed over bare skin now, testing his limits, only to be rewarded with a breathless sigh. He needed to know. If he had to break to the point of no going back...then it should be by this mans hands alone, he decided in that moment.

All he hoped for, was that all of this could convey everything he couldn't say. That Houston understood in the slightest. Even if he himself didn't. He seemed to be good at that anyway. Reading him.

 

The lean Body beneath his fingertips arched, determined to follow the warm touches, arms now slowly snaking around his neck, fingers slightly tangled in Hoxtons hair.

This was bad, really bad, he should stop this now but he just couldn't. It was like trying to convince a man dying of thirst not to drink the water offered to him. There was no use in lying to himself anymore. He would savour everything he could get until he drowned.

 

It took all of his willpower to let go of his newfound lifeline just long enough to lead him back in, up the stairs and in to the small apartment. As soon as the door was closed behind Houston he pushed him back up against it, his wrists gently trapped in his hands, lips following the enticing lines of the younger ones collarbone. He could feel his breath hitch beneath his lips, the small pounding of his pulse as he migrated up his neck.

 

He smelled like rain, like a warm summerbreeze and still so very unique, he knew how sappy this sounded, even in his thoughts but he just couldn't help it.

Craving more contact, his hands now roamed free, slowly tracing the lines of hips, the small valleys and mountains that Houstons toned abs formed, exploring everything, making sure to engrave every little detail in his mind. Where old scars petruded slightly against the surrounding smooth skin, how every inch felt beneath his fingertips, where the places lay, that made him shiver and arch his body in pursuit for more contact, how the soft and small whimpers resonated so sweet right beside his ear and how the ghost tried to hide them so desperately.

 

No objection came from him, when Houstons now tugged at the hem of his shirt, it was cold and damp, it needed to be gone. It leeched on the warmth he so desperately craved and tried to preserve. So he parted only long enough to let the younger free him, discarding it to the floor without a second thought and suddenly it was himself who felt hands all over his body.

 

Just for a second dark memories tried to sneak their way into his mind, soon to be brushed away, by the warm tingling lines, that Houstons touch left. This was different, no time, no space to think about anything. There were only those gentle hands, tracing ever scar he had on his chest and neck before soft lips followed suit, as if to kiss everything away. Replacing every dark memory of pain and brutality with a lingering shine of gentleness, reminding him that the past was long gone.

That he was safe.

 

He was led to Houstons bedroom now, with steady hands on his chest. His gaze never leaving the peaceful blue eyes that were locked to his own. There was no need for words. Not that he knew how to express anything right now anyway. The ghost made no move to push him down or proceed in any way, his hands always staying on his chest like an anchor.

He was thankful for that, he needed to be closer still, but his demons were fighting just as hard, bombarding him with pictures he didn't want to see, about hands like iron claws all over him, pushing him down, holding him forcefully down.

 

The gentle touch to his burned face got him back, understanding in those eyes right before him, forcing nothing more off of him than he was able and willing to give, waiting, comforting.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, he dragged Houston with him on his lap. Pulling him closer, until they were chest against chest, the younger mans knees to the sides of his hips.

A sigh escaped his throat when gentle hands slowly combed through his hair, replacing yet another memory with something pure.

He wanted to be closer, needed to be. This wasn't enough.

 

He captured Houstons lips in another deep, hungry kiss, letting his hands trail south, following the defined lines where his hips met his legs, taking the restrictive fabric of his pants with him on the way. The small almost desperate sounding moan and the slight rocking of his hips were enough to send pleasurable shivers down his spine, neither of them able to hide the interest in one another anymore. So he let his hands travel further down underneath the fabric, desperate to hear him more, to hear those sweet sounds tumble from those beautiful lips, knowing that it was because of him and only him.

 

When he closed a hand around the other man, slowly moving up and down, he soon followed his rhythm, rocking his hips over Hoxtons lap, arms tight around him, face buried in the crook of his neck, to muffle the quiet moans and whimpers.

 

No, he needed to hear...to see...to feel all of him. This wasn't enough.

 

So he turned them, pushing Houston on to the bed in full, robbing him of his last clothes, marveling over the man beneath him. Eyes almost closed, lips slightly parted and darkened from the heated kisses. He crawled over him, throwing aside the rest of his own clothes, closing every remaining space, only in the back of his mind realising that strong legs wrapped around his waist, overwhelmed by the heat that Houston seemed to radiate, loving every heartbeat he could feel against his chest.

 

The younger was slowly rolling his hips up against him, desperate for more contact, one of his hands mindlessly grabbing for something in his nightstand.

 

"Hox...please..!", the small plea triggered something in him, kicking up his want and need for the younger man another notch. Houston wanted him, despite everything..He didn't allow himself to dwell on that realisation for to long.

 

Their lips met again, no holding back anymore, exploring one another, deepening the kiss, as something was placed in one of Hox' hands. He didn't need to look. Didn't need to break the kiss

to coat his fingers in lube and reach down, carefully spreading it over Houstons entrance. Gently pushing one digit in. Distracting him by catching his lip between his teeth for a moment, only to kiss away the minimal pain. Watching his every move for any hint that he was uncomfortable with all of this. What he got was quite the opposite. The blonde let his head fall back, eyes closed, hips moving to urge him deeper, to show him he was allright.

 

The sight alone was almost enough to send him over the edge, when he pushed a second finger in, slightly curling them to brush against a small bump, a bundle of nerves that got Houston arch up and moan desperately. He could've watched forever. A soft warmth spreading in his chest. A smile on his lips. Carefull he spread him open a bit more, leaning forward, to place kisses along his jawline.

 

Houstons hands found their way down now, something between his long fingers, rolling it down over Hoxtons length. Giving him a few gentle strokes, before he had to resign to the sensations the other man inflicted on him, falling back onto the mattress with a whimper. That was it, he couldn't hold back any longer. His eyes were locked with Houstons, as he pulled him closer, aligning himself with the younger man now, ever so slowly pushing in. Again those long legs found their way around him, locking behind his waist, pulling him in, speeding up the process until he was sheathed completely, engulfed in almost unbearable heat and tightness.

 

Short shallow breaths escaped the younger as he tried to accomodate to it all, fingers digging into hoxtons back while he held on tight. A small nod was his sign and he slowly started to move, carefully observing his partner, lovingly tracing his now slack lips with his thumb and watching as he bit down on it softly, with the smallest of smiles before releasing it again.

 

Houstons hand buried in his hair, tangled in the long soft strands, while he was pulled back into another kiss just felt so right, like it had always belonged there. Like his hands had always belonged on his body, to put the pieces together again, that he brought to him, without shying away at the sharp and dangerous edges of the puzzle pieces even though he had been hurt time and time again.

 

Here completely engulfed in his arms, he finally felt at home, like he had a place where he was supposed to be. He wanted him to know. To know how important this was to him. Wanted to give something back. To give him everything he wished for. To maybe even return the favor. To give him a place where he could feel he belonged.

 

He moved faster now, angling every motion just right, so he was able to hear every sound that he could steal from Houston. Kissing every imprint of his fingers on his neck now, leaving new marks there, ones of pleasure instead of pain and fear, greedy for the soft gasps and moans.

He could tell that the younger was close, so he let one of his hands wander, closing it around him, giving him more, until his body arched up, clenching around him in his release.

 

"...James..!"

 

It wasn't the sudden tightness that brought him over the edge as well, it was the name that he ripped from those sensous lips. To hear his name spoken by the younger one with such need and desperate want, like there was nothing else at all that mattered.

 

Trembling from the aftershocks, Houston buried his face at the crook of his neck, slowly in and exhaling, in time with a few slow rocks of his hips, before he let his legs slide down, too exhausted to move, too content with the way it was.

And he just held him close,laying down on his side and getting rid of the used protection.

He could feel how Houstons arms snaked around him again, his face still at the base of his neck, lips and breath ghosting over his shoulder.

For the first time in years he felt at peace. His mind wasn't rushing from thought to thought. There was tranquility as he mindlessly ran his fingers through the short hair of the man in his arms.

 

A blanket was pulled up over both of them. Soon the sun would be up. What the daylight would bring, he would have to await. If this had been a grave mistakte. Where this was even leading...but those were thoughts for a room filled with the harsh light of day, not for this cathedral of peace and safety in the blessed darkness of a rainy night, where he would stay for as long as he could.

 

He tightened his arms around the ghost, his eyelids to heavy to stay open any longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just hope i succeeded at making this more than just plain porn witthout plot...i kinda feel like sex is a form of communication as well, very intimate one, but communication none the less. It's more than just having fun and such. Since i have seen many fanfictions where i have a feeling it's just like 'in out hooray'. Don't get me wrong there's a time for that too. No doubt. But i wanted something different here. I hope i could express that in a more or less reasonable way. It's sometimes hard to find the right words in a language that's not your mother tongue. Thanks to Trashole for the thesaurus tipp. Helped a lot :D


	12. Chapter 12

It was barely 6a.m. when Houston awoke, he felt comfortable, a warm body pressed against his back, strong arms around him. It took a moment until everything sank in though. Who it was he shared his bed with. Careful not to wake him, he slid out of his embrace. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the sleeping man curl in on himself as if in search for the now missing body.

 

He needed to think about this. What had woken him up he noticed, when he tried to swallow a few times. It stung like hell. Great. One step at a time.

 

He gathered some clothes and a towel taking a shower as quietly as he could before readying himself up for the day in front of his bathroom mirror, towel still around his waist. He eyed the dark fingerprints, even let one of his hands mask them, to see if it fit. It didn't...not all of those were fingerprints he remembered, a slight shade of red creeping up his ears.

 

Shit, the fuck had he been thinking. You don't sleep with collegues. Especially not the male ones. Face it Zac, first and foremost you don't fuck your brothers best friend, he mentally screamed at himself. And you sure as hell don't do said things with a man that was desperate for comfort. He had been using a broken desperate human being because he hadn't had the strength to be the voice of reason. And to be honest he had wanted what had happened more than he would ever admit. He should have been the one to stop this before it had a chance to start. But he hadn't. This had to be the most idiotic thing he had ever done. By far.

 

He clenched his fingers around the edge of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror, once again swallowing hard, taking in the pain. Maybe this was the least he deserved. Getting so swept away by hormones and emotion was inacceptable. It was dangerous.

 

"Shit..", he let his head hang low. Maybe the worst part was, that he had enjoyed it even though his mind told him how wrong that was and that he somehow wished things were different. That this could somehow work.

 

Sometimes things felt oh so right and like they were supposed to be...and the next day there was just regret, disgust and hatred. He feared which of the three it would be, once Hoxton was awake.

They had to talk about this, there was no way around it. He knew that. That didn't help with the sense of dread, the thought filled him with though.

 

What had that even been? Was there everything at all to all of this or was this all wishful thinking. His mind tricking him into seeing more in Hoxtons actions than there really was.

 

He cursed under his breath, he could stay here all day and work himself up over this or he could do something useful. Get his mind off of it. First things first.

 

Quickly he slipped into some briefs and an old pair of jeans before pulling a black turtleneck over his head. He took a moment to convince himself his bruises were hidden as best as possible. Finishing up his morning routine, he slipped into his shoes, grabbing a black coat, his keys, cellphone and wallet. Last of all he hid his trusty LEO in a holster in his coat. He almost never left his apartment unarmed. One last glance, if the window was cracked open just enough to let Bandit pass and he was out.

 

It was a cold morning, the few people he saw, didn't bother to look up. Too preoccupied with pulling their shoulders up und tightening their coats and jackets so the wind was more bearable.

The scent of rain still lingered, the pavement showing glistening spots here and there.

The sky was a dark gray mass, maybe it would pour down again soon.

His steps led to a small hidden bakery. He loved the small room, how the older lady behind the counter always greeted him with a smile.

 

"Good morning, Sunshine. You're up rather early today.", she was already at work, preparing a cup of coffee.

 

"Hey, Beth. Would you mind making that two? You look good today.", he gave her a honest smile. It was something about that small, round, elderly lady that made him feel welcome. She never bothered to ask his name, calling him honey or sweetheart and such, still he felt like she genuinely cared for him. As much as that was possible. He was only buying his breakfast here every so often.

 

"Thank you, my dear. Sure, sure. Are you having a guest? That's nice. A fine young man like you shouldn't be alone all the time. You are alone too much.", she was happily preparing sandwiches, reminding Houston of a loving mother.

When he reached for the paper bag offered to him, she held on to it for a moment.

 

"Take care of yourself, sweetie. You look exhausted.", with that she let go and turned to prepare a second cup, placing the plastic lid on the first one.

 

"I'm here way too often. You know me too well.", a genuine smile formed on his lips.

 

"Oh no no, i was worried you forgot about lil' ol' me for a while, don't you dare to go anywhere else, lad!", she scolded him with a small chuckle.

 

"Beth you know in my heart is only enough space for one woman.", his grin faded when he proceeded. "I was...on a business trip for a while. That's all. No need to worry."

 

"You know, honey...The people that say 'don't worry' are those you should worry about.", when he took the two cups and paid, she placed her hand on his wrist for a second.

 

"I mean it, take care."

 

"Thank you Beth.", he left the small shop, closing his eyes for a moment.

 

Shit even the nice lady who can't possibly know anything about you, can see you're in trouble. Way to go, Zac.

 

Slowly he walked back in the direction of his home. When he passed the small park right beside the apartment building on his way, he came to a halt, sitting down on one of the benches, not caring for the lingering dampness. His eyes were locked on the window a few stories up, where he knew a certain someone would be.

 

He sighed heavily before he let his face drop into his hands for a while. Why was it always like this...as soon as something remotely good happened to him, it broke apart again. Or more specifically, he fucked up big time, which, as it seemed, he did now too.

 

"You are a irresponsible piece of shit, Zac. Congratulations..", he muttered under his breath.

'And even better, a fucking coward.', his mind corrected.

 

It would've been easier if it simply had been something physical. No emotions involved. Maybe he was lucky and Hoxton thought of it this way. He would feel like shit, but it would be easier. Just move on, pretend nothing had happened. Knowing someone was only after some quick fun was easier. It left a bad aftertaste but it was efficient, it was safe, no questions asked, no expectations...and not those shitty hurtful hopes of 'maybe' and 'what ifs'.

 

There was no space for something like relationships in their line of work. There just wasn't...Chains had tried and he almost got his girlfriend killed. Wolf left his family long ago...and as for everyone else.. they seemed content with the occasional hookups they picked up at bars or nightclubs or whatever the fuck else there was. Well, to be honest he had been too, for the longest time.

 

His eyes wandered up to the sky. The turmoil up there was ironically fitting of the things he felt right now. What was the use of a highfunctioning brain, of the ability to measure time as exactly as any clock, of any skill he had, if he was this weak and emotional under all the professionality.

It wasn't worth shit, he decided.

 

Suddenly he was 12 years old again, hearing everything they threw at him once more. How he was useless, that he should go and crawl back to whatever dump he came from. Worth nothing, a sissy and a wuss. A girly crybaby and what not.

He snorted humorless at that, fishing for the pack of cigarettes he always kept in his coatpockets.

Just as he was trying to light the cigarette, he noticed that his hands were trembling. Great. Was he now getting some Highschool PTSD or some shit?

He pushed the thoughts aside, as he had done so often. Nothing he could do to change that part of his life now anyways. He'd do the same as he had done then. Keeping quiet, trying to contain all the emotion. Observing more, learning more, becoming a highly intelligent and even more efficient ghost. The title and the job came later, sure. But deep down he'd always been a ghost of sorts.

 

The times when he had finally failed to keep quiet any longer had been the reason he had lost every normal job so far. The reason for any major fuck up in his life, if he was honest to himself. So the solution was clear. He just couldn't give in anymore. He had to keep quiet, no matter how much he wanted something entirely different. He just had to try harder.

 

For a while he let his mind go completely blank, just concentrating on breathing in and out, watching the small clouds of smoke rise up and dissolve.

The vibration of his cell snapped him back to awareness. Silently cursing he fumbled for it, recognising his brothers number.

 

"Yeah..?"

 

"Good morning to you too, Zac. I'm surprised you are even awake. It's half past 7.", Dallas, as always, sounded way too composed. It straight up pissed him off sometimes. Even more on a day like this, where he was reminded that everyone seemed to be a functioning human being with selfcontrol and composure except for himself.

 

"What do you want, Nate..?", he had no nerve for this now.

 

"We're meeting at the safehouse at 9. Be there. And...you wouldn't happen to know where Hox is? Wolf said he kinda fled the scene yesterday."

 

"...Can't you just call him or whatever?"

 

"He doesn't pick up. Wolf said he muttered something about 'seeking shelter in the enemys lair', so i thought..", he was interrupted by Houston.

 

"For fucks sake...nevermind yeah, yeah i know where he is, i'll fill him in..."

"Don't worry we'll get him off your hands. Thanks though...for not kicking him out. The bars are not where he should be, you know. With him being wanted and all."

 

Houston internally cringed, kicking himself even harder.

"Don't thank me, allright...that was just..ah forget it. 9a.m. Safehouse. Got it. See you there.",the gods really hated him.

 

"Bye then.", and with that Dallas had ended the call.

 

With a louder "Fuck..!", that made the old man across the path walking his dogs, turn in shock, he flung his cigarette bud away and raised from his bench, grabbing the paperbag and the to-go coffe cups.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting more and more unsure if this has any story value what so ever. I just can't express everything i want in a relatable way D: 
> 
> The longer i write the more i want to tell.


	13. Chapter 13

"Hoxton?...", he asked into the silence of his home, closing the door slowly as if he was entering the literal lair of the beast.

 

"I'm here.", he followed the voice to the couch, avoiding any more eye contact than necessary, while setting the bag and one of the cups down in front of Hox. He let himself fall into his armchair then.

 

"Is your cell shut down or something?...Anyways..Dallas tried to call you. He wants all of us to be at the safehouse at 9. I brought you something to eat, if you want..", obviously. He rolled his eyes at himself. Why was this so awkward and like walking on eggshells?!

 

"So we should hurry. Got it.", no comment on anything else. The brit just picked up the warm cup and took a sip, one hand still on the purring ball of fur on his lap. "Give me 5 minutes...Thanks for the expense by the way."

 

"Don't mention it. Was no hassle.", unsure of what to do now he placed his fingertips against one another. "Listen...uhm..."

 

"We're on limited time, remember?", with that Hox carefully placed Bandit beside him, effectively cutting him off. Needles to say the cat wasn't pleased and pawed at the brit accusingly. He got up and grabbed his coat and bag, waiting for Houston at the door.

 

So that was how this was going to be. Allright. So back to being just a ghost. Fine!...Fine...

 

He just went to grab a few items, first and foremost his sketchbook, that he shoved in his messenger bag and a few other items. His face was back to the usual pokerface he wore.

 

This would be a long car ride.

 

 

 

 

 

They were greeted by a distressed looking Jacket and a "Welcome!", out of his recorder.

 

"Oy, mute man, who got you knickers twisted that early in the morning?", Hoxton didn't wait for the response as he entered the living room, most of the crew already there.

 

Only Houston got to hear the whirred answer.

 

"Carnivorous Predator."

 

"Wolf, huh?"

 

"Positive.", Jacket welcomed him inside with a small gesture, signaling him to go first.

 

"I'll take a wild guess here and say that the karaoke evening was pretty long and pretty loud.", he could empathize with the quiet man. He liked his thoughtful and silent behaviour, the moment he had set foot to the safehouse. Sure he was odd in his ways, with just the recorder talking and all, but no member of the gang was "normal" anyways. If they were, they wouldn't do what they did for a living.

 

Sometimes he felt like he could connect to the man, better than most on the team. He understood the concept of wearing an unreadable expression 24/7. The only difference that Jacket could turn into a baseballbat swinging maniac as soon as he had his rubber mask on. His method of coping with things maybe. For himself, the silent heist were, where he'd be most at ease. All planned, all anticipated, no surprises. The challenging task of getting each and every depositbox and safe open in no time. Unseen and unspotted. There were other things he did, his equivalent of Jackets baseballbat fits, but those were topics he'd sworn himself to never talk about. Ever.

 

"Positive.", the recorder spoke again, as they entered the main room, causing Houston to snap back.

 

Now he could see the remnants of what took place the evening before. Cans of everything, ranging from soft drinks to awfully cheap prosecco and beer, scattered all over the place, barely pushed aside enough so one would not step on it.

 

"You have all my sympathies man, this looks like a bomb went off...", he patted the silent mans shoulder.

 

"Thank you.", the recorded female voice answered.

 

He let his eyes wander, Wolf on one of the couches, slouched over, obviously nursing a hangover. Bonnie right beside him, in booming laughter about something Hox had seemingly said, his face a smug grin. Clover, located on the other couch looked ready to kill everyone that was louder than a whisper, Chains and Dallas debating at the small counter, the latter grimacing slightly as he pushed the leftovers of pizza and chinese takeout a little to the side. What a chaotic mess. The soft thumping of footsteps heralding Sokol and Bodhis arrival behind him. And about Jiro as well as Dragan and Wick..those three he hadn't seen in forever so he figured they wouldn't be present today either.

 

Dallas spoke up. "So everyone's here now? Great. Try to get comfortable..", he eyed the debris everywhere, "...somehow." The crewchief straightened his clothes a little.

Houston couldn't remember if he had ever seen Dallas without a suit, since he had left home years ago.

 

"So, first things first, i'm sure all of you are aware that we do have a rat somewhere in Crime.net. I really hope and am convinced that it is no one of the payday gang. But!...and i really hate to say this..we have to make sure. I don't want to risk anymore than we already have. So from now on we lay low. There won't be jobs for a while. We need to get this figured out. That means that all of you are free to do what they like in the meantime, see it as vacation.. a forced one but time to relax none the less. Which brings me to point two. Your payments have been delivered to your accounts, and i have to say it's been quite impressive, this month.", it was obvious that Dallas tried to lighten the mood with the promise of treasures befitting of a king and no one dared to speak up. They all knew he was right. There was no use in jeopardising any more heists. The lingering unease stayed though, even as happy shouts and celebrating yells echoed through the safehouse.

 

There was more, the usual monthly speech about their job and so on yadda yadda. Houston fled in silence, unseen as always. No new heists so no reason to stay in the cramped space any longer. In the small backyard he lit a cigarette und let his back rest against the wall. Finally he could let his mind go blank just for a little while.

 

Someone had followed him though. The only one who was by default as quiet as one could be. A small rustling sound gave his presence away though, a distinct sound unique to the old letterman jacket he always wore.

 

The man gently patted on his shoulder with two fingers, motioning for Houstons cigarette.

 

"Sure man. Here you go.", the package was held to the lean blonde as well as a zippo.

 

For a while they just stood shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the cold wall behind them, watching as small veils of smoke dissolved in the air.

 

In a way the small weight Jackets body put on him was grounding. Reassuring. He didn't mind the man being in such close proximity. Usually he would've bolted at the thought. But after a few nights filled with videogames and cheap fast food as well as long conversations, he counted Jacket as a friend. To be honest this conversations had been relatively one sided and very different, but interesting none the less. It took Jacket a while to write every answer down, but he was patient. And to be honest the answers had been worth it, for both of them.

 

It all had started after Jackets first heist. There had been casualties. A young man, wrong time, wrong place and they had to take him down. It was him that had noticed Jackets different behaviour. Had asked the other about it after the man with the roostermask had vanished into his room. They all said he was fine, he was always like that. And Houston hadn't bought it. So he went to check on him, only to find him curled up in the corner of his room. For hours they just had been sitting there in silence. For a man that could be as viscious as Jacket, it seemed odd to be so sensitive to the death of a civillian. Yet he was. So he had stayed with him until the trembling had stopped, until the calm person was back. From then on they started having their little gaming nights and what not.

 

It was in a way soothing, to be around someone, that just understood and didn't need to ask unpleasant questions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a friend. I had a feeling Jacket could be a really loyal one. Odd. Maniac at times, but very observant. No need for endless talking anyways. Jacket is a really interesting character in my opinion. Because there is so much unknown. Same goes in a way for Houston. Pretty much all of the Payday gang if i'm honest. He has the whole mute thing going though. Gives him a little extra unknown that's interesting ;D 
> 
> Oh and for everyone who hasn't played Hotline Miami, i highly recommend both, i raged way to hard at times but it was worth it! xD This is where the whole "has a problem with civvi deaths" comes from. In the game, after a civillian is killed, one can see how Jacket literally has a breakdown and just throws up. Just to clear up where this came from. I'm not making every heister into a mental wreck. ;)
> 
> To get in this line of work you have to have something happening in your past though. Whatever that is. I guess that's a big part of the reason why i'm enjoying it so much to write about all these people. SO MUCH I WANT TO TELL! On the other hand one has to stay a little canon right? Not so easy for someone who's only written rp so far, with self created chars and storys and what not ;) Enough of me blabbering!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a song mentioned at the end of the chapter.. i highly recommend listening to it when you get to that part. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsT_fcjDT48

 

"Zac, can i talk to you for a second? In private?, the crewchiefs voice startled him in his thoughts. He glanced over to Jacket, who just nodded understandingly and held 5 fingers up before he pointed up.

 

"Catch you later. And thanks man.", he had gotten the message, to meet up after this. After his companion had left, he crossed his arms, waiting for Dallas to speak up again.

 

"How do i start...", Nathan was rubbing the back of his head, pondering for a moment.

 

His head a little to the side, he continued to just wait, his face expressionless.

 

"First of all thank you, that you kept an eye out for Jim. I know you two don't get along very well...everyone knows that to be fair. Maybe if you two give each other a chance you could sett---jesus! What happened to you? Do i have to get a medicbag?", had his voice been calm and thankful at the start, it surely wasn't after he had spotted the tips of the almost black imprints on Houstons neck.

 

In a vain effort to try and hide them, he moved his hands up, to realign his turtleneck.

"This is nothing. Don't worry. It's just..i took care of it allright? No need to worry.", while his face was still as devoid of emotion as it had been, was his mind racing now, weighing every option how he could explain the marks away. He could just hope, his brother could first, not tell if those were male or female imprints from the little he had seen and second, that not all of those originated from an attack.

 

"What the hell do you mean with 'Don't worry'? This looks really bad, from what i could see.", Dallas was in full protective brother and overly observant chief mode now.

 

"I'm walking and i'm fine, what i do or don't do in my spare time is none of your business, it doesn't have an influence on any of my abilities that i need here for the job. So back off. I appreciate the concern, but there REALLY is nothing to worry about.", he still held his brothers gaze unfazed.

 

"You always were a shitty liar. Where did that come from, you didn't have it two days ago. Let me at least check on it, if it has damaged your throat or larynx.", Nate made a step, to take a closer look, which only caused Houston to back away.

 

"I'm a notorious liar and i'm as good at it as anyone here, if not better. You're just overprotective. You think too much about stuff like that and now for real back off, or i swear i'm gonna make you. I. Am. Fine.", the only thing that gave away his agitated state were his eyes, now very aware of every little movement. To be fair Dallas probably really was the only one he couldn't fool since he was a little boy. This wouldn't stop him from trying though. "Now please just drop it, and keep it down before the whole neighbourhood knows.", not that Dallas had been particularly loud, it was just the little defense he allowed himself to throw at his brother, in order distance himself further from the matter.

 

"Zachariah Steele, don't make me repeat myself. Let me have a look and make sure you are allright! I don't want you to just suddenly drop because something's poking in your throat now or your hyoid is broken, or whatever else it is that can happen. This is no joke, you hear me?"

 

"I said: no. Which part of no don't you understand? If there was something wrong i would've already dropped, as you put it so eloquently.", his glare was icy now. Intimidating to probably everyone else, except for his brother.

 

"No you wouldn't! 36 hours is the time limit and you sure as hell haven't passed that. You didn't have that the last time i saw you. Hox saw you first. I can go and ask him, if you don't want to tell me.", Dallas knew this threat was just plain mean, but he WAS genuinely worried about his brother after all.

 

"Fuck you, Nathan.", that was all he said, his defeat evident as he gave up the aggressive posture, turning his head away, waiting for Dallas to do whatever the fuck he had to do.

When he finally mustered up the courage to pull down his collar, he braced for the worst, avoiding each and every eye contact.

 

He could feel how the medically trained look of his brother took everything in he saw, before his hands followed, slightly pushing here and there, to see if he carried any severe injuries. He hissed at the slight pressure over his hyoid, causing Dallas to frown even deeper.

 

"Just what the hell did you do? Show me your eyes!", he demanded in his doctor like tone, before he just turned Houstons face to himself, staring him down for what felt like an eternity.

 

"And i thought i just imagined those in your eyes.. i can see petechiae...this was way too close. When did that happen? Couldn't be more than a few hours as hot and fresh those marks are. Talk to me, Zac. Who did that?"

That would explain Beth's remarks at least. If his eyes carried those small red spots, Dallas had talked about, he really must've looked like shit to anyone else. Great. He knew his brother was really worried by now. Yet, he didn't know how to tell him, if he should tell him. At least no comment on the other marks, to his relieve.

 

"It was an accident, allright..? That's all you have to know. I didn't get viciously attacked or something like that.", as soon as the chief had backed up, he pulled his collar back up, one hand staying there, as if to protect the skin beneath.

 

"Accident you call that..?", Dallas scoffed. "Whoever did this, better be in a way worse state than you by now. If i get my hands on that son of a bitch, i swear to god--", he was cut off by Houston.

 

"Don't...Don't finish that. For your own sake.", cards on the table was the only option now. He couldn't trust Hoxton to keep silent about the ordeal if Dallas made due on his threat and went to ask him.

"The guy is allright, by any means. Promise me you won't freak out."

 

"Why would i--"

 

"Promise me!"

 

"Allright allright.", now he had Nates full attention.

 

"It was Hoxton...and before you assume anything, it was my fault, he was sleeping, he had i nightmare i think, so i tried to wake him up. He didn't quite catch on for a moment and i startled him so he..well..So really, it was an honest accident. No need to bring it up anymore, okay? He was genuinely sorry for it, no need to bug him about that either. Just keep in mind to wake him up with a brrom handle or something if you ever have to.", there. Now it was out. Part of it at least. The rest really didn't matter now. First and foremost he had to get Dallas off of this.

 

For a moment it looked like it had worked.

 

"Are we finished now..?"

 

"You just drop that bomb on me and that's it? No, no, no. And where the hell did you get those hickeys then?", every alarmbell went off in his head. He didn't even know how he brought himself to look Dallas square in the eye and answer.

 

"Well where do you get your hickeys from? I was with a girl, okay? Do you want any more details on that?!", he went with the aggressive way now, in hopes to distract further. He was surprised that his brother hadn't made the connection yet, on the other hand the truth was even more unbelievable, thank god.

 

It was obvious Dallas had more to say, but let the topic drop.

"I want you to check in with me in a few hours again. If anything gets worse, like pain when you swallow or anything at all, tell me...I will talk to Hox about this."

 

"Well do whatever the hell you want, you don't seem to care what i have to say anyways!", he used the moment to slip away and leave Dallas behind, his way straight upstairs.

 

He was greeted by a duffle bag thrown into his arms and Jacket, holding up his car keys, a bag for himself around his shoulders. Without even enough time to protest he was shoved out of the safehouse and into the other mans car.

 

"Where are we even going?", he tried to find a clue in the bag that had been tossed at him. Gymn clothes and something that looked like rolled up bandages.

"Look, i really have other things on my mind right now, i'm seriously in deep, okay? Maybe another time..", the man behind the wheel just shook his head.

"Dallas will be furious...He will whip both of our asses, you know that, right?",again Jacket just casually shook his head.

He then just resigned to his fate and watched as the street flew by. Once again he wished he would be faster with learning the sign language so he could at least get a little more input on what was going on.

 

At the corner of his eye he saw how Jacket flipped a cassette into the old player. Soon electric sounds and synthed beats filled the car and he felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He relaxed into his seat and even laughed quietly when he saw how a slightly smiling Jacket accelerated for his amusement a bit more on the highway.

He let the music carry him away, for a while he was just a normal person on the road with a buddy.

Suddenly the city was ripped from his view, when they passed one of the many bridges and with the grey gone and the glistening water to his side he wished for a moment he could stay there forever. The sun warm on his face, after the long cloudy morning, the small waves on the river shining like liquid silver.

 

Then it all passed, the streets had them back, but the warm calm feeling stayed with him. Maybe this day could get better. Maybe everything wasn't as bad as he thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe future chapters will take longer, as i currently have a major writing block plus i will be away for a while. Thank you all, for following the story this far. I'm really glad i got so many kind comments and helpful tipps. Thank you all very very much.
> 
> I hope you all have a great day or even better a great week. 
> 
> I cannot say this too many times: Thanks.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last update for a while now. It's really short, but i wanted to leave at least something, before i'm away for a bit. Thanks again to everyone that followed this far. 
> 
> (Song i listened to while writing this one was Anadel - Remember me, for everyone that's interested.)

It was strange to be back in his room. Everything here was his and yet it felt like he was merely a bystander. Empty. Cold. A large bit like just a different kind of cell. Nothing more than a shabby bed, a even older guitar, a table and his electrical piano.

 

Hoxton let his hands wander over the ebony and ivory of his keyboard. As a youngster he had promised to himself that one day, in a far distant future, but surely someday, he would posess a real piano. One of those beautifull black concert pianos where even the slightest push of a key would produce a whisper of a note. Now he had the money for a whole hall full of those, still he couldn't afford to posess one out of completely different reasons now.

 

A melancholic smile found its way on his lips. Funny how things keep to stay out of reach for him.

 

He sat down in front of the instrument and laid his hands on the keys, just waiting even though he wasn't entirely sure for what exactly. There was nothing to do now. No heists to prepare...Nothing to keep him from thinking too much. The silence crept under his skin, nagged at his thoughts. For a while he pressed down a key here and there, but nothing would come to his mind.

As minutes ticked by, the urge to just shout until his lungs gave out grew, just to fill the bloody soundless void in this room and to shut out the constant hammering of his own heartbeat.

 

_Breathe.._ he reminded himself, the voice of another man behind his own in his mind. 

_Just breathe..think about something else.._

 

He only managed a few shaky in and exhales, before he slung his arms around himself, eyes squeezed tightly shut. His arms hurt where he had bruised himself during his nightmare, but now the pain kept him grounded, he could feel how his lungs unfolded further than before. It didn't help long though, soon everything returned even worse, when his mind fixated itself on the cause of his nightmares. No, he wouldn't sit here and pity himself, the panic faded into anger, the black behind his eyelids turned to blazing red. They had no right! NO RIGHT TO BE HERE! Those damned memorys! And they were getting worse since this...this fucking twat managed to wiggle his way into his mind! It was his fault! For sure! He didn't need help with anything! Why would he need it now! He had managed so good to ignore everything for the longest time! It was since he was back! Since this bloody wanker was around! Since he had managed to see behind the mask he was pulling every bad memory forth with his shitty attitude... with.. with his considerate behaviour, those irritating hazel eyes and those distracting gentle words and..fuck this damned brat!!!

 

With an almost howl he sprang to his feet, after two quick steps flinging every book and paper on his desk to the ground, shattering a forgotten glas and strewing pencils all over the place. 

The sound of things breaking helped, the sight of something smashed calming to him.

For a moment he eyed the debris to his feet and took deep breaths.

The sudden rush of adrenalin subsided and again only emptyness remained.

He wanted to tell someone, to shout at someone, to just vent...anyone...but he couldn't. He knew that. They wouldn't understand. They would just feel even more guilty. Maybe even treat him different.

 

So he slumped down on his bed, trembling fists on his legs, before he raised one hand up, sinking his teeth into his white knuckles, to muffle any sound, like he had done so many times on the cold prison floor. And he would do the same as then. Trying to survive through this. Don't think. Don't feel. It will be over eventually. 

 

Why did he have to witness what peace of mind felt like, when he had been with the little shit. It made everything so much harder to bear, when he had to return from this serenity, ripped open each and every wound he ha concealed and tried to forget for two years. 

 

With a soundless pained whimper he curled in on himself, waiting, wishing against all logic for the gentle voice to return and to tell him to breathe.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> In this chapter contains major spoilers for hotline miami, so if you haven't played that and want to do it i suggest you might want to skip this chapter. Not all of it is Canon for Jacket but i tried to keep it close to it.

Exhausted and in a good way absolutely tired, Houston slumped down in one corner of the ring, pulling his bag over, to grab a bottle of water. Jacket had dragged him into a small and actually very old gymn, if you wanted to call it that. To be more precise it was barely anything more than a locker room, showers and the main hall with a ring in it. Looked more like the shady underground boxing rings but it was just a more or less private training room. Nobody had disturbed them here and for a while Houston wondered if Jacket had set this all up himself and if this was where the silent man vanished to when he wasn't in the safehouse.

 

They had practised unarmed combat for god knows how long. Well, frankly he got pretty much destroyed by Jacket, but he had also learned very much. A technique here and there, some new sign language bits and most of all he had had something to occupy his constant working mind.

Dallas really would kill them both if he knew what they were doing. Houston just figured, if nothing happened so far with his throat there wouldn't now and all the other bruises where he got shot were nothing more than pink spots of scar tissue on his skin anyway at this point. It was time to get back up and do something.

 

The familiar weight of Jacket plopped down on the ground beside him, throwing a towel over his head and obstructing his view.

 

"Oy!", he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the unusual playful behaviour, before he lifted the fabric. The Ex-Soldier snatched the bottle of water from him then and took a swig. After a moment he tossed it back, gesturing for Houstons neck.

 

"Everything's fine, don't worry. But thanks man. For taking me here and all. For the time and such.", he couldn't hold Jackets gaze for too long. A small pat on his back was the answer he got.

 

His mind wandered, when he wiped the sweat on his forehead away, before he let the towel dangle around his neck.

"Hey...can i ask you something...?", he glanced up just to see Jacket motioning for him to go on.

 

"Do you ever miss it..?...The life before all of this i mean...the time when none of us were..this...thiefes for a living..Just normal guys with a normal life?", again he loked up to see his answer. It was just one sign, a simple -why?-.

 

"I guess it's just...I feel like it's so strange how we live you know. In our own little world. We pretty much can't talk to anybody besides the crew or we risk getting detected, everyday normal problems seem like totally out of place for guys like us. I wonder how it would be if the last question i asked myself everynight was 'did i leave my carkeys on the table' instead of 'did i arm the shakecharge at the door, is everything i need if i have to flee the scene in my bag and is my LEO under my pillow'. Sometimes it feels like the time i have to spend outside of heists and jobs is the time i wear the biggest mask and the time where i lead my secret life. It just seems to shift you know...how i percieve everything. Gets hard to tackle 'normal' things if your everyday solution to problems is to either a, sneak it so nobody notices or b, put a bullet through the problem...I'm rambling.. i'm sorry.",he sighed and gently circled his fingers over his temple.

 

Jacket seemed to be in thought for a bit, before he motioned for Houston to pass him a pen and something to write on, since he knew the ghost always carried around a bit of paper and some drawing pencils or pens or whatever.

Careful not to damage the other pages, Houston ripped some of them out of his sketchbook and held it over to the silent man with a pen.

 

My life before this wasn't exactly normal. I suppose yours wasn't either.

What is it, that you think you could deal with better, if you were "normal"?

Something is clearly bothering you, isn't it?

 

Houston glanced over Jackets shoulder, reading as he wrote.

"I guess not. Never the childrensbook childhood and family. Neither of us all had that i suppose. Seems like it would come with the job description.", he said only half joking.

"About the second part...I don't know. Everyday life i guess. If i can't stealth or shoot it, i get confused easily and i really hate that. I think i know what i have to do and then boom wrong decision. Sometimes everything would be easier if there were clear lines of black and white, that's all i'm saying. For an example, in a heist i know what i have to expect. Tiny alterations i can adapt to easily because we plan in those things. But concerning other things...like other people i don't know jackshit what to expect. I think i do and then something happens that i have no idea how to react to. That pisses me off so much. I thought maybe if i was a little more normal i'd know how to deal with those things or i'd be at least prepared a little better.", while he talked he had started to play with the ends of his towel mindlessly, to occupy his hands.

 

Other people are always hard to anticipate, you know. I think i get what you're saying

though i don't think theres something wrong with you. This is hard for everyone.

Considering what we all do, you're very "normal", don't worry.

There are just things in life we can't possibly know right away. That's how this works.

Who are we talking about anyway?

 

Houston remained silent for a while. "There's someone i think i might like a bit more than i should...that's all i can say right now. That's fucked up enough, i'm a highfunctioning professional criminal i shouldn't even think about stupid shit like that and yet i'm here crying about all of this like a damn highschool girl. Talk about pathetic.", he gave a humorless laugh.

 

You think it's pathetic to long for someone to be close to, mind and body?

 

"Doesn't seem to fit in our line of work, right?..We're supposed to be cold businessman, focused on nothing other than our work and making money. Hard headed criminals. No room for something like that. Murderers with no empathy what so ever. That's how the world sees us. No one in the crew has something like a relationship. So i suppose that's just the way it's meant to be."

 

Did i ever tell you, why i left Florida and came here?

 

Houston looked at the written question puzzled. "No...you didn't."

 

Back then i was barely more than a killing maniac. I had nothing left in my life as it seemed,

other than hunting down each and every russian mobster, partially because of

50 blessings...partially because fighting was all i knew how to do anyways.

I murdered my way through lots and lots of bodys until i found her.

 

Jacket paused for a bit before he returned to writing, slower this time as if he had to think about each and every word.

 

She was held captive there, i guess you can imagine what for, in a house full of men.

She begged me to end this. I was standing there blood all over and yet i couldn't

hurt her. So i picked her up and took her with me. For whatever reason, she decided to

stay with me. I didn't notice at first how my apartment changed, a little friendlier each

time i returned. Clean, warm. How i changed. At some point i realised that i didn't want to

continue like before. That i had found something i wanted to keep safe.

I wanted her to be safe. To be happy. She had seen so much in her life and yet

she stayed with me even though she'd seen who i became once i put my mask on.

She knew who i was and didn't shy away from it. No she was even seeking my

presence as i was looking for hers. You know maybe it's not that people like us

don't want to have someone close, most of us fear what could happen eventually.

 

Houston waited for Jacket to continue, as he turned the full page over. He had a guess where this story would lead to and honestly he wished he was wrong with what he suspected. There was only one reason, why Jacket would've left.

 

In my world of blood and violence i needed her. More than i needed to breath or else

i would've lost my mind somewhere along the way. Even more than i already had.

But then the life i lead caught up to me. To both of us. When i returned home that day.

she had been killed. Shot by another 50 blessings minion. I was in shock and got shot myself.

When i awoke in the hospital, i heard the doctors talk, how i was lucky to

have survived this shot. Went through my brain. Doctors said it might be the cause of

the speaking loss, could be a traumatic thing too though. Nobody knew.

All i knew, was that i was alone once more. I was on the run since then. Until your

crew picked me up. So no, i don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to

be close to someone. All i say is, is tht there is always a risk in our lives. But a

risk is always there. If it's not the bullet, it's diseases or being at the wrong place

at the wrong time. I figure most of us wouldn't take the risk because they got burned

once by doing so. I just regret, not telling her, what she meant to me, when i had

the chance.

 

He had a lump in his throat as he watched the story unfold on the former blank page. A risky life. Yeah, that was what they all lead indeed.

 

"I'm so sorry for your loss...", there really wasn't much else he could say now. He couldn't help with the pain that was visibly still there on Jackets face even though he hid it very well. Words couldn't bring back the dead. He watched silently, as Jacket got up and walked over to his letterman jacket, to pull out his wallet. Careful he picked a photograph out of it and held it for Houston to see.

He was met with the sight of a beautiful young woman, blond hair flowing around her shoulders, her blue eyes full of life and yet they looked like they had seen a lifetime. He didn't ask for her name. Names were more personal than anything in their lifes and he wouldn't pry on that.

 

"She was gorgeous..", he looked up to see Jacket turn around the photo and smile a little. Gently he traced the outline of her face, before he hid the picture away again safely.

 

After that they worked in silence to clean up after them and get ready to head home. When they got back to the safehouse, Dallas was sure to give them a lecture and dismissed Houston after another inspection.

 

All the way back home he pondered about what Jacket had told him. That he didn't regret being with her, despite everything...

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. Thank you all for the overwhelming support. I really love to read all of your comments. Even though it takes me some time to reply to them that doesn't mean i don't apprecciate each and every one of them. So once again thank you all so much.

"You wanted to see me, Dallas?", everyone else in the safehouse was asleep now, the only light was emitted by the small kitchen counter lamp, illuminating the crewchiefs face.

 

"Sit down.", albeit his tone might have suggested this being a friendly request, Hoxton knew better than to not take him up on the offer and sat down, fingers folded on the cold countertop now.

 

"What is it?"

 

"You almost killed my brother.", Dallas now looked up, meeting his eyes.

 

"Oh bloody hell, no I didn't...he's still frolicing around as ever. I told him I was sorry, he startled me!", this was ridiculous. He had told the little brat he was sorry over and over...!...Well maybe not exactly... but he got the point!

 

"Most people don't just lunge at someone who just startled them a bit...what's keeping you so on edge..? Is there anything I can do?", the offered help threw Hoxton off.

 

"No."

 

"Excuse me..?", Dallas raised an eyebrow.

 

"There's nothing you can do. No one can. It was just a nightmare, nothing to get your knickers twisted about", in other words, he didn't want to talk about any of it. Ever. And honestly what could anyone do? Nothing. No words or actions or whatever the hell could take away what he had seen and what had been done to him.

 

"You could try and tell me...maybe we can figure something out, I'm here for you Jim, you know that. If this is because we took so long, then i'm sorry, I'm so damn sorry but there was nothing we could've done any sooner. I swear to god i tried. I tried so hard to find a way...", Dallas rubbed his temples now, once again he looked so much older than he was, marked by worrys and responsibilities.

 

"That's not it...it's not your fault i went in there to begin with. I know you did everything you could...You don't want to hear that shite anyway. There's nothing you should beat yourself up about, alright..? We're still mates, that hasn't changed just because of two lousy years.", he managed to crack a smile. He knew that this would happen. That he needed to get his old crew back on their feet. He wasn't the only one affected by all of this. That didn't mean it was easy to fake smiles though. Him going away had ripped wounds into their small twisted family and now they all needed time to patch themselves up and heal again.

 

"Look, I know this shouldn't have happened, Dallas and I'm sorry. I really honestly am. All I can do now, is proise that it won't happen again. I'm trying here, okay..?", Hoxtons tone now went to a softer variation, less humorous. He needed to show Dallas that he was being honest here. He couldn't let Dallas know. It was bad enough that his twat of a little brother got a glimpse of it. Strangely it was way more easy for him to accept the fact that Houston knew than to just imagine how it would be if Dallas knew. A very strange realisation indeed.

"Give me a little time, man. I need to sort this all out, it might take a while..so all i ask of you is to be patient with me just a little while longer. Can you do that for me?", he held Dallas gaze now. He could see how guilt and helplessness shone through the crewchiefs eyes as he just nodded his head.

 

"Okay....I can do that...I guess...just promise me, you'll talk to me if you can't...you know..handle this all on your own. I'm here, please don't shut me out. And i know you can do that. You've always been a tough nut to crack...just...let me help...a little at last...and i know this might be part out of selfish reasons...how can i ever make amends if you push me away...i know how horrible that sounds..but I thought there's no use in denying that. Not with you. We knew each other too well for that...", the crewchief looked up again now, trying to read Hox' expressions.

 

"And we still do...there is no 'knew' there is only 'know'. No past tense, alright? Yeah I get it....I don't want to guilt trip you, not at all. Quite the opposite actually. You shouldn't feel guilty at all about this.", he smiled softly.

It was easy to forget, that Dallas was still a human being with emotions and fears behind the front of an allmighty leader. More important, that after all he was still his best friend, a man he would go through hell with and back if need be. No matter how damaged you are yourself, try not to forget that others might need help too. Their lives and worries don't stop just because you are all fucked up..that's what he was telling himself now. Maybe a more mature insight that one would've suspected from Hox, he himself certainly hadn't. But the longer he dwelled on that the more he found himself calming down. This was important now. Once again he heard someone, telling him to breathe, and it helped. He could do this.

 

"Now now. Put away your worry face. I know I can be a hassle, don't let it drag you down, mate. I've got a way better idea than pulling grumpy faces all night. I've had that for two years now. It's time for a change. And you didn't drag your best mate out of that hole just to be upset now, did ya? How about a few beers and you tell me what you lads did all that time? I still got to catch up. And don't you dare spare the juicy details..!", he chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows at the last part. "I wan't to know everything."

 

He caught Dallas offguard and after a moment of stunned silence, a smile crept onto his face. Yes that was more like it. The small wrinkles around Dallas eyes that showed now were much better. Testimonies of joy, of laughter not of worry. Hox smiled back at him and jumped up from his seat.

 

"You get the beers, I'mma inspect the couches!", and with that he was out of Dallas reach, plopping down in the soft cushions.

 

"Lazy bum!", the chief laughed quietly and Hox listened to the sound contently. Yes this was much better. To hear his friend laughing again. This would be a good night. Not necessarily easy to keep up and to stay in high spirits. In fact it would be very hard to hear what he had missed out on while...other things...happened for himself. Yet he felt like this was important. For himself and for Dallas even more. So he would try his best. And maybe...just maybe...that quiet voice in the back of his head would keep him afloat. He hoped it would.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning at the beginning here, this could be triggering if you have experienced depression or episodes of it yourself so PLEASE proceed with caution and DON'T read it if you are in an accute downphase. I mean it. Please be safe. 
> 
> Could be considered disturbing by some, contains selfharm in a more abstract way. You have been warned.

Days flew by. Against all logic Houston hoped, the fugitive would come by again or at least call, as pathetic as it sounded. None of that happened. Days turned to a week, then two. He hadn't dared to confront Hox again about what happened. It wasn't like he had seemed very thrilled to talk about it then. So he just chalked it up for what it probably was. A mistake. On both sides. Nothing more. This was by far not the only one night thing he ever had. He was used to the fleeting nature of those kind of...meet ups.

 

He sighed quietly, his forehead resting against the cold window, as always slightly cracked open, to give Bandit a way in and out. He had liked the nights like this. Where he would just sit on the window sill, arms around his knees and stare out into the dim darkness, broken by an occasional streetlight. Maybe a cup of tea or hot chocolate in his hands, Bandit on his lap if he was in the mood to curl up and purr the night away. Another thing he had to think about now. The next time the little feline came in here he would have to catch him. Or he'd have to leave him behind.

 

Chains had talked to him in these past days, suggesting he should look for another flat. That his hiding space was on the brink of getting found. This rat situation was getting out of hand. Yes, Bain had provided him with a new and in his words way better and even more safe flat, but he would miss this shabby apartment. It had been home for so long now. The small rooms seemed so empty now, only necessities were left, everything else had already been packed in boxes and waited to be brought to the new location. If there was one thing this whole thief and underground network was good for, then this. Things happened fast, effiecient and without trace. It wouldn't even take a day to move all of this, once his soon to be new home was secured to Bains satisfaction and the stuff he really wanted safe, like his sketchbooks and such were with Jacket right now anyways. So all that was left to do, was wait. And that was something he was really bad at. Especially when his mind worked non stop. Wich it practically always did. Even more now.

 

He could hear the seconds tick by in his head. See the hands of a mental clock move, every rigid stop of them echoed like a gong in his ears. It was driving him insane. In a heist he could've concentrated on the task at hand, there he would have been at peace. An outlet to focus his too sharp mind. But now he was trapped with himself and his thoughts and to be honest, those were anything but nice at the moment. He tried to ease his aching chest with deep breaths, to get the claws around his ribs to open up. Sometimes it worked, when his own voice in his head grew too loud, throwing around hurtful slurs, truths he knew about himself but didn't want to hear. Tonight it didn't though. They were fueled by his latest mistake, by the rejection. He needed something to distract himself, to get the malicious voice in his head to shut up. So he rose from the window sill, grabbed his coat, keys and a few other things and left the apartment to seek for distraction in the streets.

 

 

 

 

His back hit the brickwall of an old building in a small side alley, pushed into it by a middle aged guy. That was it, his distraction, the third one tonight, impatiently pawing all over him, stopping for a short moment as he made out the kind of new bullet scar on his shoulder.

"Just do it already..", his tone was one of defeat. He just didn't care anymore. So what if the third John fucked him tonight. It's not like he was good for anything else, as it seemed. So why not...why the hell not if it distracted him for a while. This was nothing more than just physical contact anyway...nothing involved. He had learned that those were hopes for little girls and boys that thought the love of their life would someday magically appear. That wasn't true. You either use or get used. And he had been shown long ago that his place was in the latter category, proven once again by the latest events. So it was time to kill every emotion concerning that matter again. Stupid hopes.

 

He welcomed the pain, closed his eyes as he felt disgustingly wet lips followed by teeth biting down on his shoulder, maybe it would even draw blood. Who cared. Part of him hoped, it would. The pain and the scars were reminders. Reminders that this was how the world worked. The burning as this John forcefully dragged his nails all the way down over his shoulderblades and further over his back helped to calm him. He had been told time and time again that he was cold, almost like a machine...a expressionless thing. But now as the pain floated through his body like holy fire, cleansing at least a few of his shortcomings and sins, he smiled, a sad expression, defeated and yet glad he felt something at all.

 

It was a cruel joke. At day he was the highly intelligent, efficient and cold criminal and at night, after jobs when everything was too much and his own selfconciousness brought him to the edge of sanity... he was this. Picking up whoever was willing to do something quick in the nearest abandoned side alley, letting himself being used like some sort of streetwhore. And in his mind, this was exactly what he was, worse even.

 

It wasn't always like that, sometimes he's go days, if he was lucky even a week or two without those ugly thoughts, but they always came back and nothing ever prepared him for how truly cruel his own mind could be, throwing him to the ground and metaphorically speaking, kicking him when he was already down. And then they'd stay. Mabye just hours...sometimes months, leaving him in a haze of grey and black, doing what he was doing now to have something...anything..to occupy his mind with, other than those thoughts.

 

What else was there to do.

The last thought tht crossed his mind every evening before he fell asleep for so long had been 'why am i even still here'. He robbed...for what? For money he couldn't spend. And for what should he even spend it. There was just no meaning to any of it. No money in the world would bring the time with his brother back. He'd left so long ago. He hadn't been there when he had needed him. God, he had loved his big brother to bits, admired him, wanted to be just like him one day. All grown up and cool and smart.

Didn't work out. He just wasn't made for this.

Foolish hopes of being part of some sort of family again.

The idiotic mistake of starting to like a person that likely saw nothing in him than just a nuisance.

Failing at everything he tried, as it seemed. And in his mind the world just liked to crumble under his feet.

So all that was left to do, was this. To seek someone to hurt him, use him. So just for a few minutes he'd feel needed. Like he was good for something. To justify his existence and most of all to distract him from the fact that...most of the time... he didn't feel anything at all except for a nagging emptyness or the heavy numbness of thoughts how useless he was.

 

In his civil life he was a nobody. A fleeting face in the crowd. His dad he'd never known and his mom had other things on her mind than her good for nothing second son. When Nathan had left, she'd converted to a soulless shell only living up again on the rare occasions that his brother showed his face. Every other christmas...maybe her birthday. He'd had watched from afar. The betrayel of his brother just vanishing from one day to the other had stung to much. So with no one to care, and a school full of bullying idiots..he became a troublemaker. To be something. He got into fistfights, he began to steal and many other things. His former excellent grades dropped, now that Nathan wasn't there anymore to show him how fun and important learning was. He was the prime example of a bad 13 year old. But all he achieved was to vanish more and more from the minds of people he once held dear. He was just a bad kid. A failure. That was all. And so, he embraced the nothingness he was. He became even more quiet than he had been before his troublemaker time. This time not because he was shy but to shut himself in, so nothing could phase him anymore. The blank pages of his sketchbooks the only witnesses to the thoughts that plagued him. He became the ghost.

 

His solitude and emotionless behaviour now part of who he was, as a means of selfprotection.

 

The things he did where a form of selfharm and he knew it. He knew that every normal person would never do this to themselves, yet he couldn't care less. It was those times, when he could finally breath almost as if the everyday life wanted to drown him.

 

So he let the nameless guy do whatever he pleased, lost himself in it at least for a little while and embraced the numb, hollow feeling after it was all over as he rearranged his clothes. The guy hadn't even looked back at him once he had been finished. And maybe that was for the better.

 

Tomorrow he'd be all professional again, doing his job, smiling for his brother and colleagues. Waiting until this episode of depression was over and he could stop faking smiles in exchange for smiling because he meant it.

 

Slowly Houston made his way home, smoking absentmindedly as he walked past building after building. It felt like he was walking through thick mist, his mind comfortably wrapped in soft cotton, blurring every incoming thought, dissolving it and leaving him with blank space. Finally he didn't have to think. Just for a while. He knew that he would hate himself in the morning even more, but for now, he couldn't care any less, even that thought just faded out.

 

His twisted peace of mind was disrupted though, as he rounded the corner just to see strange cars in front of his building he didn't recognise. He was just in time to hear the blast and see the flames cloud out of the shattered windows of his apartment.

 


	19. Chapter 19

"Turn on the news. Now!", Dallas had dragged them out of their rooms at 4 in the morning, rounding them up around a laptop on the kitchen counter, now playing the latest news, images of a burning apartment that they all knew on the screen.

 

-...police is currently unable to pinpoint the cause of the blast, though they highly suggest it might have been a gas leak. Foul play is not excluded and investigation will follow as police told us. This is 24/7 Internet news, I'm Allessia Heart. Stay tuned for mo-

 

The blonde woman in the makeshift internet newschannel was cut off, as Dallas flipped the laptop closed. Dead silence followed for a few seconds and Hox felt like someone had thrown him facefirst into cold water. The first to speak up was Bonnie.

 

"Well shite, wasn't this the den of your little brother? Can you contact him?", the massive woman crossed her arms now, waiting.

 

"He isn't answering and we can't go there as long as the place is swarmed with police...God who knows maybe they even tabbed in on the cell towers there trying to triangulate. I can't risk calling him over and over...shit i don't even know if he was home or not..", the crewchief rubbed his forehead, clearly distressed. "I need volunteers..."

 

"I'm going.", the answer had slipped before Hox even knew it. "I'll take Jacket with me.", the ex Soldier raised an eyebrow but, surprise, said nothing, just nodded in agreement after a moment.

 

"You?"

 

"Yes me. Let's go. Clover, i want you to stay in contact with me on this, give me a secured line and I'll update all of you through her. You, car. Go.", it was strange to bark orders again, like he used to back then. Strange but it felt right. He was back in business. He needed to be. Dallas was in no condition to keep his cool now. Jacket was already on his way out, starting up his car, while Hox went to grab his things. Shite, that little twat better not got himself killed. He clung to anger right now. Anger towards the ones who attacked. Whoever it may be. To dwell on the chance that Houston might've been in there was impossible. He hadn't been in there. He just hadn't.

 

The rest of the crew watched quietly, as Jackets car grew smaller and smaller on the dark road, leaving everyone to wonder and worry at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

It looked even worse, now that they were at the scene. The flashing blue and red light illuminating the smoking remnants of what had been a home. Hox clenched his fists, watching the police from across the street. He wanted to punch each and every one of them in the face, scream at them, that the one they wanted was right here, that they and their stupid rat friend had blown up the wrong heister. And he was sure, they knew what was going on. The policemen were way too relaxed, they took their time, no rush to get in and see if someone had been hurt. Nothing. He had seen too many investigations to know that this was not how it should look like if they were to take their task seriously. They knew. And they waited.

 

Just as they had crossed to the small park near Houstons apartment Hox thought he'd lose it right then and there. Then there came a sound to his ears. At first only small but as he concentrated on it, he could make out a direction.

 

"Jacket...can you take over, staring at the cops for a bit..i need to check something..", the mute man looked at him a little confused at first but then nodded, raising one thumb up.

 

"Thanks mate.", with that he turned around, listening intently. Yes there it was again the silent cry of a cat. Could it be? He followed the sound further, plunging deeper into the dark spots the street and park lights didn't reach to a bush.

"Little fella..?", he crouched down and pushed up a few branches only to be hissed at violently. No doubt who he had before him now.

"Oy, it's alright little one. C'mere..Shh..now, now.", Bandit was still growling and hissing but more scared than really to intimidate, the cat hadn't been a beauty before but now there were small patches of burn added to his appearance.

"It's alright...you need to come with me, little one...your friend will miss you when we find him...you wouldn't happen to know where he is, do you..?", he knew that the cat couldn't understand him, partially he talked just to calm Bandit down, partially because he needed to hear those words himself. Slowly he reached out to the cat now, gave him time to recognise his scent, that he knew the man now crouching before his hiding spot.

"Come on now little guy...i know those hurt...let me help.", Bandit didn't even put up a fight as he was picked up now, curling up into a ball in Hox arms, now a mix of growling and purring. He knew that the cat didn't purr because it was happy or content..he did it because he was hurting and half scared to death, to comfort and calm himself.

"That's right...all good now...", he let one hand rest on the small furball and made his way back to Jacket now. The absolutely confused look on his face soon vanished as Hox explained.

 

"This is Houstons...he loves this little one to bits..i thought he might would've been hiding with the cat but..well...cat was there Houston wasn't...obviously...couldn't leave the fella behind though."

 

They waited for another half hour but the cops made no effort to move or clear the scene. There'd been no body bag at least. Either way there wasn't much they could do now other than wait.

 

"There's no use in sticking around any longer...he's not here. Time to go back and work out a new plan..", he sighed quietly, cradling Bandit closer to his chest. This whole situation made him uneasy, scared even.

 

Jacket just nodded and turned, to get back to the car. Hox followed slowly and carefully entered, so he wouldn't spook Bandit. The drive back was filled with thoughts. So many thoughts.

 

 

 

 

No news as Jacket and Hox returned to the safehouse, Bain was furious, as far as the collected man could be called that.

When they had entered and Hox sat their new rescued friend down it was hard to hold back Clover and Bonnie as well as Wolf to not frighten the feline. The three of them were cooing over the small animal, immediately rushing for a first aid kit, a bowl of water and a little milk.

 

Hox watched them from a little distance now, talking to Dallas.

"There was no trace what so ever, but the bloody cops were sitting around there, thumbs up their arses. They were doing nothing except for maybe waiting. You couldn't call that investigation. I doubt he had been in there, no bodybag no coroner nothing. But they weren't looking for him either...I have a really bad feeling about this, Nate.."

 

"You think they already have him...", the crewchief rubbed his temples.

 

"I hate to say it but it's the only logical answer, right...? I wish i didn't have to say it though..I'm sorry, mate..", he let his hand rest on Dallas shoulder for a while. "I'm sorry...this is because of me...he shouldn't have picked up my mask...seems to come with bad luck nowadays.."

 

"Oh shut up, it's not your fault we have a rat that seemingly wants nothing more than cause trouble...reason dictates they'd target Houston...he was the new one. Least amount of time spend with us but part of the original 4...at least in their eyes..maybe they think he'd be the most willing to talk to them...no established loyalty, not as high of a body count as any of us..maybe they think a bargain would get him to talk... i don't know..."

 

"This has to stop...seriously...if it's the same informant from two years ago this has been going on way too long...we'll find him, Dallas..We will find him...the little twat.", an almost gentle smile crept onto his features.

 

"I'm amazed you even care as much as you do...You volunteering to search for Zac? That was a new one...and now this little speech..", the chief eyed him attentively.

 

"Look...he turned out to be...different than I imagined him to be alright? I give credit when it's due..I was very immature but the anger was something I needed back then. I can't really explain it. Fact is I don't hate the twat as much as it might seemed like...okay..? He's...he's an alright guy...", he cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to the three playkids and the cat in the center.

 

"I see..."

 

The rest of the conversation was cut short, when someone entered the safehouse. With everyone here, this could only be one person.

 

"Houston!!!", Clover was the first to spring up und almost topple the Ghost over, as she threw her arms around him. "We thought...oh god it doesn't matter what we thought! Where have you been you jackass, at least you could've called!", the happy hug turned to a small punch on his arm.

 

"I'm glad to be here too, thanks..", he rubbed his arm with a small smile. He hadn't thought it would be a welcome like this.

 

"What the hell happened?", now it was Dallas turn zu walk over to his brother and inspect him.

 

"I was....out...for a walk and when i came back...boom. I don't know more than you do...except for a few license plates maybe...but they were probably stolen or fake. Can someone give me something to write? Then Bain can look into this..", Houston took the post its that were thrown his way and fumbled a pen out of his coat pockets. Better write down what he knew now, or else he might get something wrong. Unlikely with the way his brain worked, but it was better to not take chances here.

"There. Hell those guys want us behind bars bad...or six feet under...judging from the blasting party they had at my place.", he cracked a smile, lightening up the mood while he passed Dallas the 3 license plate numbers he had seen. His gaze went to Hox for a moment. He was the only one that kept his distance, leaning by the kitchen counter, arms crossed. What had he expected.

 

"So that means we can all go back to bed, yes?", Bonnies booming voice asked.

 

"I'm sorry i kept you all awake..", he apologized quietly. "Sure, go ahead."

 

Bonnie didn't need to be told twice. They all were tired.

 

"You should all catch some sleep...I'm fine, i promise...just go to sleep..especially you, Nate. I can practically see the lack of it on you.", he gently ushered the crew out of the small living room, all crawling back to their beds, Hox was the last to go, still not saying anything, leaving Houston to himself.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Houston was alone now, smoking in the small backyard and watching the first dim halo of light creep up on the horizon. With a small sigh he let his head fall back against the cold wall, eyes closed. He was so tired of it. All of it. Tired was the only thing he felt those past days in his mind.

 

He needed something to do or else he would go mad. This forced hiatus was hell. They really needed to get a hold of whoever was turning their lifes to shit right now. Houstons own in particular.

 

The ghost tensed up as the one voice he didn't need right now, made itself known.

 

"Houston..?", the englishman slowly came out into the backyard. Careful as if not to scare away a small animal.

 

He kept his eyes tightly shut and counted slowly to ten, before he dared to look at Hox, so his face wouldn't give anything away.

"What is it..Can i help you with anything?..", he asked quietly.

 

"Actually...i thought you might want to talk..about what happened today..You don't have to it's just...you seemed like you could use a little company..", it was strange to see Hox like that. And he could clearly tell the other man wasn't used to acting like this either. Yet he did it.

 

"Now you want to talk to me..?", his tone wasn't as aggressive as it might should've been. Actually he sounded just tired. "Please spare me, Hox...really...I'm fine...You don't owe me anything if it's that.."

 

"You are upset...", Houston only had a tired sigh for that.

 

"Hox, if there is something you want to say, say it and then please, for the love of god, leave me alone..i can't deal with this now...Sorry.", he now looked Hox directly in the eyes.

 

Hoxton didn't like what he saw there, the utter defeat. He knew that look too well.

"This is about what happened that night, right..?",he now tilted his head a questioning look on his face.

 

"You don't get it do you? I don't want to talk about it, alright? The same way you didn't want to talk about it then. I guess we're both aware of what this was and that this was literally all it was. As it seems it was a mistake. I'm sorry but maybe it is better if we both go back to being an asshole all the time..", he made an effort to flee the scene and go back inside, but the brit cut him of halfway to push him back. That set the usually composed ghost off.

 

"I don't know what you want from me, first pushing me away every chance you get, avoiding me like the plague and now, now i should just stop and listen when you decide that you want to talk? What am i? Your toy that you can throw around to your hearts content?! Fuck off, Hox! Just Fuck off!", he tried to get away from the brit again but to no avail. He wouldn't let him pass.

 

"Oy, don't run away on me now! I'm very aware that i didn't handle this very mature, but don't blame this all on me! I know that you have every bloody right to be pissed, i get that. but--", he had to duck fast under the answer he now got in form of a clenched fist.

It took him one move, to catch Houstons wrist.

 

"No! You don't get shit, Hox, you don't get the least bit, now let go or i swear to god i will break your arms!"

 

"Then explain it for christs sake! Bloody hell i'm trying here okay?!", he made no move to release his grip.

 

"Fuck. Off.", Houstons unreadable expression began to crumble, the longer he had to stay in the close peripherie of the fugitive. He tried his best to avoid any eye contact even in the dingy darkness that still made it almost impossible to see anything clearly at all anyways.

 

"No i won't leave your sorry arse be...you wouldn't leave me be either, no matter what i threw at you, remember..?", he grabbed Houstons chin with one hand and forced him to look at him. "Remember?..", his voice just a tad bit softer now.

 

The hard shove from Houston came without a warning and caught Hox unprepared, still he didn't let go of his wrist at least, even when he stumbled back a little.

 

"You don't get the meaning of FUCK OFF now do you?!"

 

"Like i'd let you run off now! Bloody hell, at least talk to me, I'm sorry if i'm too dense of a motherfucker to understand it without a little help!", now it was his turn to shove the ghost around, effectively pinning him against the wall.

What happened next caused him to duck down again faster than he wanted to admit, no holding back this time in the swing Houston took at him with his free arm.

 

"Oh is this how we play now?! If you want to beat my arse up, fine but at least tell me beforehand why i'm supposed to get a whooping!", the second swing missed too and now Hox held both of his wrists in an iron grip, pushing him back with more force now, trapping him completely.

 

"Get the fuck off of me you fucking brainless pisspoor excuse of a brit! Back off!", Hox let him rage on, taking the curses Houston was throwing at him while he wriggled in his hold for minutes on end before he came to the realisation that he wasn't able to get away. Then there was silence, just broken with the small laboured breaths, the fighting men took.

 

"...What do you even want...?..what's so important...huh?", the defeat was obvious in Houstons voice now, low and almost too quiet to grasp. It was a miracle no one had come to investigate the comotion until now, perhaps it was better this way.

 

Hox just looked at him for a long while in silence.

"Shite if i knew what to say i wouldn't have taken so long...I just...", he came to a halt, now that Houston finally looked up to him. He didn't like what he saw. The unpenetrable mask of emotionlessness gone, replaced by defeat, exhaustion, a pain he couldn't trace, nothing physical, something he had seen in his own reflection, something shattered and broken. Like he was just tired of everything. The wait for this to be over. All of that, he could see now and his heart dropped at that.

 

"I'm sorry...I'm so fucking sorry for whatever it was, that i did...", the words left him before he could even register their meaning.

 

A long silence stretched out between the two of them.

 

"Remember when you talked to me...after i was shot..? When you told me i had no clue what others actually think even while helping and caring and sacrificing things and whatever the fuck else it was i did, as you had put it so eloquently..?...You have no fucking clue either...", he fell silent again after that, now limp in his opponents hold, turning his gaze away.

 

"Now let go, would you...?", the longer he felt the body of the man he came to like so much pressed into him, the lingering scent of him everywhere, the harder it got to stay composed and rational.

How he had missed the warmth seeping through his clothes, the feeling of another human being he actually cared for touching him. His mind torn between kicking the shit out of the brit and wanting nothing more than to stay in his hold forever, as twisted as this was.

 

"..I don't know if i understand right what you are trying to say right now..", Hox slowly anwered, obviously thinking twice about every word he said now.

 

The fire returned to the ghost in an instant, how dense could one be! He tried to free himself again now, struggling with all his remaining might.

"I like you, allright?! A whole fucking lot and that's a problem! A big shitpile of problems! You got it? But since all i am to you is a nuissance, a convenient shoulder to cry on if the oh so strong Hoxton needs one and a fucktoy you can play around with as you please until you find something better, there is no use in it anyways! All i get is ignored and pushed away when i try to help! I thought i would be allright with this! But i was wrong, okay? I can't do this anymore, so i beg you please just go to your beloved Clover or Nate or Wolf or who the fuck else there is and spare me! It just plain hurts, man! Call me a sissy or whatever you want.. There! There you have it and now let me go, safe me at least a bit of this fucking embaressment, you asshole!", he pulled up his shoulders, falling back against the wall, the anger slowly subsiding.

 

"I'm not your plaything, allright...now can we please go back to ignoring and hating each other unless we have to work...just pretend this never happened and go both on with our messed up lifes?", his voice small now. He knew he wasn't completely fair or realistic here for that matter but he just couldn't hold back anymore. This all had been bottled up for too long.

 

"So that's what you think of me...? That this was all just a game to me...? A Joke..? That this means a whole lotta sodding nothing..?", he loosened the grip around Houstons wrists.

"Bloody hell, lad i don't know who told you this bollocks, and yes i'm sorry that i'm not good with the whole 'express yourself the right way' shite...but i know one thing for sure..i wouldn't have let anyone else see me like you saw me. Not ever. And i'm not the type of guy to just run around and screw everything that moves and is willing, allright? There was never anything between me and Clover. She's an old friend. Nothing more nothing less. With No one else here for that matter..!"

 

An unimpressed snort was all he got from Houston. It sounded rather sad than angry. He didn't believe it one bit. He knew that he himself was the one to do said things. But not for pleasure. That much was sure. In a way this part of Hox' words once again confirmed how sick and twisted and broken he was. No wonder no one could stand to be around him for long. The Ghost swallowed hard, fighting back his demons, trying to keep at least a little composure.

 

"Look..i'm not trying to get you to forgive me or anything...but maybe to understand some things. I'm an arsehole most of the time, i'm loud, i'm pissed almost 24/7, most people can't stand my guts for long and i'm very well aware of that. I know that i'm a bloody shitty person to be around. But i would never, never ever, intentionally play with someone elses feelings. Even i know that this shite is the worst...So don't think this is easy for me to say...but i'm sorry... i'm incredibly sorry and i know i can't take anything back.", he paused there, pondering wether or not and how to continue this.

 

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with me after that.. I tried to accept that and stay away from you too. I know i was a coward after what happened that night, there's no excuse for that. All i can say is, that i didn't know what i felt and wanted and everything else. Wasn't fair to leave you hanging with that, i know...What i know though is, that i can't bloody stand it, whatever it is we're doing here. Ignoring and avoiding and all that sodding shite. I don't want you gone, okay..? Perhaps i never really did. Truth is...when you're around i feel...at ease...like i'm okay for once..",Hoxton let go of his wrists now alltogether, he didn't step back though, staying close, without actually touching the younger one. The tension was almost palpable.

 

"...just...say something, Zac...if you tell me to fuck off now, i will...", Hoxtons voice was uncharacteristically quiet now, waiting for his judgement by the hands of the only man he would lay it into.

 

Houston looked up now, at the mention of his name.

 

"So you don't hate me..."

 

"No I don't...to be honest...I was scared shitless that something...something might've happened to you today...", neither of them moved,

 

Lean hands lay down on the fugitives chest now, slowly gripping the fabric.

 

"Fuck this...",Hox' heart dropped as he heard the words, stopping for a second, contemplating to just leave, before he was pulled down by his collar.

 

The kiss wasn't loving, no cinema shit of tender gentleness and finally resolved feelings. No. This was desperation, no less intense, punishment as well as reward, yet they both lost themselves in it like their lives depended on it, no intent on letting go anytime soon. Hoxtons arms wrapped around the ghost almost painfully tight, trapping him, drowning the younger one in his presence. This was where he belonged. In return he felt arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, teeth biting at his lips before releasing them and kissing them all better. There was so much more that needed to be addressed, but that could wait for a bit longer.

 

Houstons heart was pounding as hard as it was aching, he had given in once again and yet he couldn't help it. He would man up and admit it, there was something about Hox that he just couldn't stay away from. He was like a forbidden and dangerous drug, killing him slowly with every shot as well as hooking him more. Ultimately he didn't care, now that he let one of his hands bury itself in the soft long strands of his hair, pulling it back a bit, gaining more dominance in the kiss, while he pressed himself up against the strong body, the toned muscle beneath the few layers of fabric.

He always had had a selfdestructive personality, only that this time, it wasn't a compulsive thing he just had to do if he wanted to or not, with Hoxton he not just didn't care if it was harming him, he wanted it despite this knowledge. Against all better jufgement he hoped that at least a little bit of truth had been spoken by Hox just know, that he did care...at least a bit.

 

 

"What the hell, Zac?!", his brothers voice cut through the silence like a knife.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me this far. Thank you Thank you Thank you.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger. I had this almost finished so i knew it wouldn't be too long of a wait. :b

"What the hell, Zac?!", Dallas stood in the doorway now, looking at both of them as if he caught them sacrificing a virgin to Satan himself.

 

Houston immediately turned his face, stuck between shoving Hox a bit away and clinging to his shirt like dear life. There was just one word repeating itself over and over in his head: "Shit!"

 

Hox glanced over to Zac when he pushed, reading fear and panic in the usually calm hazel eyes. A little strong of a reaction for just being caught kissing. Then it hit him.

"Don't tell me he didn't know..", he asked quietly. A small shake of the ghosts head was all.

"Oh shit.."

 

"And you! What did you do to him?! Zac are you alright? I heard your fighting, now what is this that i stumbled into here?! Would somebody mind to explain?", The crewchief looked from one to the other now.

 

"Well what did it look like, Chief?", the fugitive asked challenging, refusing to raise his hands, one still located on Houstons hip, the other on the wall beside his head.

 

"You! Shut it! And get your hands off of my brother! I thought you were just a dick to him because. But this?! Making him do something like that! What the hell Hox?! He's not like you!", Dallas' mind seemed to deny the plain and obvious answer right now.

 

"And what would 'like me' be then? And for your information i don't hate him!"

 

"Funny after i heard you both fighting and yelling around! And if i remember correctly there was more than one 'fuck off' out of this guys mouth!", he pointed to his brother. "Now get your hands off of him. Last time i checked 'fuck off!' meant 'don't fucking touch me!'. And with 'like you' i mean he's not into guys! He had a girlfriend once..!", for Hox it was obvious that Dallas mind didn't process all of this right and seeing it from where he came from well... it looked pretty bad right now. He looked down to Zac again. He still looked scared out of his mind. Hell, he remembered when he had told his family, or rather what qualified as that, that he also liked men. He gently put a more firm hold on Houstons hip as he felt the hands of the ghost gripping more of his shirt.

 

"...Nathan..it's alright...this..is alright...", it took every bit of courage in Houston for him to look up to his brother now.

 

"This is...what?"

 

"He didn't do anything to me I...I didn't want him to..", he explained slowly. He knew that he HAD to explain this now. There was no way around it anymore. "And...it's not true.."

 

"What is not true?", Dallas was clearly still ready to step in.

 

"...I..uhm...I'm not into girls..Nate..", he couldn't look at his brother, too scared to see the disgust forming there, that he was sure would wait for him as soon as he glanced up, but on the other hand, now it was out. It was finally out.

 

"Just because Hox got you to do..that..doesn't mean anything..! Zac, get inside i have to have a word with Jim.", the crewchiefs voice was hard now, absolute no bullshit attitude.

 

"No, you don't get---",Houston was cut off again.

 

"Inside! Now!", Dallas was boiling under the collected outside.

 

"It's alright..just go..We'll talk later. I got this. Go.", Hox whispered and stepped back from Houston, letting the ghost slip out of his hold and inside the safehouse, before he crossed his arms and eyed Dallas.

 

The Crewchief only waited long enough for his brother to be out of sight.

"This is a new level of stupid! Even for you! What the hell were you thinking? He's stressed out enough without your bullshit! He's not...He's surely not gay, inexpierienced maybe but not gay! I would know..! I'm his brother after all so what the hell? He would've told me! What the hell were you trying here? I swear to god if this is just another attempt of making his life miserable, i will not hesitate to beat your arse up..!"

 

"Are you done now..?", Hox just raised one eyebrow, letting Dallas rage on. For a moment he was almost amused how similar the brothers were in some situations. Always calm and collected but as soon as it was personal, they blew up like powder kegs.

 

"No i'm not done! Even IF he thought he...he you know...That he liked you, where should this lead to? You can't even stand him so what were you going to do? Getting his hopes up and then drop him?! Leaving him even more confused? How a about a little explanation here?", Nate seized him up now, ready to go on another rant depending on what Hox' answer would be now.

 

"Oy, mate. As long as you got as many rockets up your arse as you do now, i can say whatever the fuck i want and you wouldn't believe me.", he stated plainly, tilting his head a little.

 

He could practically see, how Dallas posture became a little less aggressive and he took a few deep breaths, before brushing his hair back and crossing his arms. Still a defensive stance but better than before.

 

"First, thanks for the terrible judge of my character. I know your fuses just got fried a bit and I'm sorry you found out this way, but can you please use that brain of yours properly again now?", he knew that Dallas wasn't thinking right, but that had hit a little close to home. He knew he could be a shitty person at times but he wasn't THAT bad.

"Let me help you to get your facts straight. First of all: I. don't. hate. your. brother. Actually i do like him pretty much. Second: I am sure as hell not the only and much less the first guy he kissed. Last time i checked, being attracted to the own gender was pretty much considered being gay. And I don't just 'turn' someone gay. You either are attracted or you are not. Third: No you wouldn't know just because you are his brother. Actually you're more unlikely to know. Did you see how scared he was? Nathan, he's scared shitless right now that you hate him for what he is, that's why he hasn't told you or anyone here for that matter. At least i figure he hasn't..."

 

"But he doesn't seem like it at all.."

 

"What dou you want him to skip around and wave a rainbow flag over his head that reads 'HI I'M GAY!'? What do you expect, he's the same person. And to be perfectly honest, who he is attracted to is his business and his alone. He has no obligation to tell you or anyone else for that matter who he wants to sleep with. Pardon my french.", he had to spell this out for Houstons brother now or else he would refuse to face the facts. Denial had been a big issue when he came out as well. Especially because he dated men and women alike. There was always the excuse that he wasn't gay or rather bi, just curious, yes and someday he'd see that he really just liked woman. Yeah. As if it was that easy. If he could spare Houston those comments, he would do it. He was as responsible for this mess as Houston himself.

 

"Oh come on, how would you know if you're not the first guy he tries messing around with, maybe he was just..curious... you can't take advantage of that!" And there it was.

 

"Nate, i highly suggest you let this question drop. You don't want the answer on how i know. Just take my word for it I know that for a fact."

 

"So he told you? He could tell you everything if he wants to, he's a damn good liar, we all are, you know that..!"

 

Hox sighed and rubbed his temples. Did he really have to talk about THAT now.

"No he didn't tell me. I know. And i know because there a certain things he was too experienced in if he hadn't done it before, Nate."

 

"He's like a walking encyclopedia, he can practically do anything if he puts his mind to it."

 

Oh bloody hell, he really had to say it didn't he.

"In bed, Nate. You don't learn those things just by reading books and then thinking you know what this is like..! So i know for a fact that he knows what he's doing, i apologize for the mental image but i told you, you didn't want to know, how i knew for certain.", hadn't the situation been as serious, Hox probably would've laughed at the face Dallas made now. Disbelieve and the obvious imagining of what he had been told running wild with him now.

 

"Accept it Nate, Your brother is as gay as the night is dark. There is no way around it. And to clear this up once again i didn't make anyone miracolously like men. He needs you now, alright? He hasn't changed just because you know one more aspect of him now. Acception is vital now..You probably can't imagine how hard it was for him to tell you. And to be honest you probably hurt him pretty much when you denied it and cut him off. You were practically saying that what he feels is wrong. That he doesn't know best what's going on in his head."

 

Dallas just raised his hands, he didn't want to hear another word right now, this was too much to process.

 

"...Just calm down a bit and then we can talk this through. You and him or the three of us. Depending on what Houston wants. Sorry that it had to be the shock therapy...", Hox waited a bit if Dallas wanted to say something else before he slipped past the crewchief then, starting to look for his ghost.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a song mentioned, for everyone interested: Good Mother - Jay Brannan (Jann Arden Cover).

He found Houston sitting in the dark corner ob the shooting range, on the left of the doorway, curled up and his face hidden by his crossed arms on his knees. There was no need to turn the light on, he just slowly slid down beside the ghost, placing one hand between his shoulderblades.

 

"I won't leave you to deal with this on your own...i promise..", that was all he said. And what should he say. He knew that there was nothing that would help the younger man now, when he was trapped in his own thoughts. All he could do, was be there, showing him he wasn't as alone as he felt. So he let his hand wander to Houstons neck, gently circling his fingers to calm and reassure him. Quietly he began to hum a song, breaking the silence, giving Houston something to concentrate on without demanding anything in terms of attention or answers.

After a while he could feel the tension ease under his fingertips, Zac had to be so exhausted after all of this, finally calming down. Really calming down. Gently he tugged at Houstons shoulder, waiting until the ghost had settled in his arm, face hidden at the base of Hox' neck, before he turned his head slightly to rest on Houstons.

 

It was strange how they could go from almost beating each other up, to cuddling up in the matter of minutes. They had just figured out a minimal amount of what needed to be addressed and yet this didn't feel weird or forced. Maybe that was, what happened when one broken human being met another. They find comfort in each other. In the fact that there is not always a need for explanation. Hox stuck with those thoughts for a long while in the dark, just holding on to the man with him, finding comfort in the weight on his shoulder, the slow breathing that started to even out.

 

 

 

Hox didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, it couldn't have been long and honestly it wasn't the worst he'd slept in a while now. He had been so comfortable, with a warm weight against his body. Except for how numb and sore his body felt maybe. But dreamwise and in general had he been as calm and comfortable as one could be, wich was a blessing after so many nightmare ridden nights. It took a moment for him to realise what had woken him up though. He blinked a few times. It was bright in here. Bright. Why...there had been no light on then..He blinked again and turned his head just to see a beaming grin, framed by shoulderlong brown hair.

 

"Good morning! Didn't know you two missed each other THAT much.", Clover giggled.

 

"Oh bloody hell, get out Clover...and put the phone away..!", he tried to shoo the female ghost out but she wasn't impressed. At all. Maybe because the man she just found cuddled up with the heister he seemingly despised the most, was still half asleep and holding on to Houston protectively like a giant teddybear.

 

"No way! This is golden! Hoxton and Houston, finally getting their shit together! Bonnie will wet herself laughing about this! Hoxton IS a cuddler after all..!", she was in highest spirits, would the situation have been different, Hox might as well had laughed it off, but now Zac raised his head with the commotion, he stared at Clover with a blank face, then at the phone.

 

"Are you done..?", Houstons voice sounded a little raspy but other than that no clue to what he thought right now at all. Slowly he pushed himself up a little, hands on Hox' chest.

 

"Oh if you want to pose for me, i wouldn't say no, sleepyhead.", she giggled again. "This is just too cute. You two all puffy from sleep curled up on one another."

 

"Oy, what's so funny about that, Shamrock-Lady! There's nothing to see here anymore..!", he took the hand, Houston offered him after he'd gotten up and got on his feet himself now, straightening out his clothes a bit.

 

"I can't wait to show this to the others! Now i have the solution to your constant fighting, each time you two insult each other now i will pull out this gorgeous little masterpiece! And maybe someday you two will get along for real!", she was laughing now, happy about the foto she seemingly had taken.

 

Houston just looked at her, his face still expressionless, before he pulled Hox over without a word and kissed him deeply, right in front of the other ghost. He then just let go, raised his middlefinger to Clover and left the room.

 

Hox watched him leave before he looked back to Clover. The sheer shock and disbelieve in her eyes was too much. Hoxton just burst out laughing then and there.

"YOU should see your face now! Ahahaha!", he was practically howling with laughter. He had expected anything but the cool composed answer Houston had just given without a single word. The lad was full of surprises.

 

"Would you stop laughing, Hoxworth? This isn't funny! I had SUCH a good foto and now you two ruin my masterplan by not giving a fuck!", when the initiall shellshock settled, Clover chimed in on Hox laughter. "My GOD now i'm happy i didn't catch you two naked!"

 

"Don't lie to yourself, you would've loved it.", Hox wriggled his eyebrows playfully. At least someone was totally fine with the way things were. It was a start. Clover might be a bit tough to handle at times, but she had her heart in the right spot. She would deal with this maturely enough even though she would probably joke about it now, every chance she got. But that was alright. Humor was better than disapproval. Seeing how Houston handled the situation right now, he should be able to take the jokes. So it seemed like only his brother was the problem. His opinion was the one, Houston cared about in the matter. The one he feared.

 

"Oh yes please, i want nothing more than to see two of my colleagues getting all handsy with each other. No thanks!", she giggled again before her tone became more serious.

 

"Is he alright though..? I mean if i went to far..i thought it was all just a joke...I didn't know you two were...you know.. close and all. I really didn't want to hurt him it was all in good fun."

 

"Yeah...i don't really know about that...was a rough night..so keep it down a bit with him, okay? There's a reason nobody knew. That's all i can say for now. It's not my place to talk about it more than i already have."

 

"Got you. No dumb jokes until everything settled, except for when it's just you.", she had been serious up until the last part, that she added with a smirk.

 

"Whatever floats your boat, Clover."

 

"But..there's one thing.. i mean...You two weren't particularly close at the beginning.. what changed..? I'm supposing that this here is a little more serious, than what you usually had. Seemed like it at least if you cuddle up with someone like this and it's not because of too much alcohol.", she crossed her arms now, waiting for his answer.

 

"To be completely honest, i have no bloody idea what this is or will be. But i do care about the twat a bunch. I like having him around."

 

"That's a big concession coming from you..."

 

"Yeah..",he rubbed the back of his head, unconciously smiling a bit.

"I guess we'll have to figure out a whole lot on the way. All i can say is that i just like having him with me. Strange to say that out loud. Jeeeesus i'm getting all sissy about this. Excuse me i'll go search for my masculinity now."

 

"Oh shut up, it's cute to see you smile again, Hox. Nothing to be ashamed of. You are allowed to be happy too, you know? If you two get along then what the hell, go for it. Just be careful. For both of your sakes. I don't want him to get hurt as much as i don't want you to get hurt. Be nice to each other, boys. That's all i'm saying. And now shuush i wanted to practice! Or you'll have to join me and then i'll swipe the floor with you.!, she grinned, the challenge evident in her eyes.

 

"Like hell you will! I was a sniper, Lady, you don't just lose that. Bring it on!"

 

 

 

 

 

After he had flipped Clover off, he had left the basement. It was strange how good that had felt. To just be able to commit to who he was. No hiding. No masks. To not give a shit about wether or not someone saw. And the fact that Hox hadn't pushed him away, not just that he had even returned the kiss. This realisation made him smile. Even more when he heard Hox laugh, probably because of Clovers face. Maybe he could somehow manage this. Step by step, little by little.

He went to shower now, cleaning all of yesterday away, getting ready for a new day.

Quietly he hummed the melody he remembered Hox singing yesterday.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for all the fluff. 
> 
> And, for everyone interested the Soundtrack of Les Choristes is mentioned in here. So give it a listen if you want. Specifically La Désillusion. :)
> 
> I was going for a framing frame like apartment. So think of that while reading, to help visualize all of it :)

It was just a week, that Houston had to stay in the safehouse. It wasn't like he and Hox were parading around that they shared a closer bond than anyone expected, but there was the occasional glance when the other wasn't looking. A smile here and there, a few jokes thrown back and forth. They got along better now, but the topic at hand hadn't been touched again. As for Dallas...he was avoiding his brother. Not in a mean way, but it was obvious for the ghost, that his brother was uncomfortable around him. There'd been more than one occasion where Dallas had fled the room with a polite excuse and at that times Houston had been glad for Hox' hand on his shoulder.

 

To leave again and go live in his new and frankly gigantic apartment had been a bit harder than he had anticipated. Since he couldn't and didn't want to take Bandit with him, he was alone there now. The cat didn't need a long time to understand that there in the safehouse, everyone loved him. No one would throw rocks after him, he'd get a gentle rub from everyone he got close to without a fear of getting kicked away and there was food and fresh water provided, plus the safehouse was his personal playground. It had surprised Houston to see how fast the little fellow accomodated to the place, but maybe he just felt at home and welcome. Who was he to take that away from the little guy. Bandit seemed to love all the attention he got. To be honest he had an inkling that it had to do with Hox the most. Bandit had been looking for something ever since Hox had been staying over and Houston had never figured out what. Until he saw the two of them in the safehouse. Hoxton sleeping on the couch, a furball curled up in the crook of his neck, both snoring away peacefully. At first a small bit of jealousy had hit him before he just shook his head. HE liked Hox. So why shouldn't the little one like him as well. After all Bandit had always been a stray cat, he could decide where and with who he wanted to stay. Was only fair. He had watched the two of them for a few minutes that day, just smiling softly. It was rare to see such a peacefull image and he treasured the rare occasions life was like that. Simple.

 

This would be the first night here in the new apartment. Leaning on the railing of his huge balcony high up over the streets admiring the dark sky, he took a drag of his cigarette. It was getting colder now as the year slowly got to an end. His gaze wandered over the other apartments. None of them would probably ever dream that they lived just across the street of a criminal. So much glass everywhere. It was like the rich and beautiful decided to spend millions for penthouses where no one could see or reach them, just to be able to showcase their life through ceiling high glass windows. He looked back at the glass front behind himself. And he was one of them as it seemed. He felt underdressed as all hell in his old wide sweatpants and v neck even in his own four walls.

Sure he knew why Bain had set up a place this big and exclusive. So in an emergency the whole crew could fit for a while. But right now, the big rooms frightened him. It was all foreign. Everything smelled still so new, like paint, the woody scent of new furniture. Like the place wasn't ready for humans. As if he would stain the untouched living space with his pure existence.

 

With a sigh he rubbed his temples. God his brain was thinking strange things again.

There even was a grandpiano in the big living 'room' behind him. It was more of a hall really. He didn't even know how to play these. Two staircases...a sort of gallery looming over the living room...Countless smaller rooms, and even more places to hang out with sofas and a tv and what not. He practically had to run a mile just to get a cup of coffee. Strange. Really.

 

He flipped his cigarette bud into the ashtray and went back inside.

In front of the piano he stopped, remembering what he had heard so long ago. What Hox had played. Careful he opened the piano, fingers running over the ebony and ivory coloured keys. He pushed one of it, just to see if it even worked. It did. And it filled the damn silence with a smooth gentle note even on the slightest push. He smiled to himself a bit, before rolling his eyes at his behaviour.

What the hell was wrong with him, standing here smiling like an idiot. Next he'd start drawing hearts wit H in them like a little schoolgirl. He literally facepalmed at the thought and sighed, annoyed with himself. This was getting rediculous.

Still..he kind of wished for Hox to be around.

After a while one just noticed certain things. The way he hold his teaspoon always intrigued Houston. Not like normal people between thumb, index- and middlefinger, no not Hox. He always held it between thumb and ringfinger. How the hell he managed to do that without making a mess was beyond Houston. Or the grumpy humor, sarcastic remarks...and the the small smiles. Almost not noticeable. Only when you looked at his eyes. Not always did his smiles reach his eyes, but when they did, it was gorgeous. Zac had caught himself staring on more than one occasion, almost ready to whip out his sketchook. Maybe he'd do it one day. But people tended to get irritated and selfconcious when they noticed that they were being drawn. So he would have to remember it. As best as he could.

A louder commotion outside got him back to the here and now. Even though he was so high up, safe in this tower and fortress of Bains security measures a shudder ran down his spine. It was the first time he really let himself think about what happened.

That his apartment...his HOME had been practically blown up. He could've been inside. Shivering he looked around. These rooms were way too big...they stretched out so far. No. He just wasn't used to them, that was all. He needed to pull himself together. What was wrong? He liked being alone. At times...sometimes. Alone was good right? No one to hurt you. No one he had to pretend in front of...right..?

Not right. He missed the company. One person in particular.

 

"Damn it...", he muttered to himself, turning away from the instrument, flopping down on the sofas on his right, staring out into the night. As always he had no lights turned on. Why would he. The blueprint of the place was engraved in his mind anyways. The dark was always more safe. He sighed softly, his legs dangling over the armrest. He was tired. He could go to sleep.

 

And then..? Do the same that he was doing now. Thinking. Thinking too much. He could go out. Find someone...but...no. It felt wrong now. He felt sick to his stomach, imagining someone else touching him. That was a new one. Caring for himself...having a sense of pride left.

He let his gaze wander to the high ceiling. Seemed so far away. No he didn't want just anyone with him right now. So strange, to feel like this. To actually care about himself. He hadn't given a damn about himself for so long. Yet here he was, actually stopping to discern what he wanted and felt right now. It was one thing to feel something all the time. Or rather to not feel anything. To not give a damn. It was completely different to suddenly be aware of such things.

 

For a moment he felt in a twisted way happy. That he cared, but soon enough it scared him. This wouldn't last. It never did. And then all that was left would be this damn apathy. But was that so bad..?

His thoughts circled back to his brother. How uncomfortable he now was with him in the same room. It hurt. The nervous glances. To be avoided by what little family he had left.

Just because he liked Hox. Because he was into a guy.

This should've never happened. This should've stayed the way it was, all physical nothing else. Secret most of all...It should never have come to this. Being a way for him to vent, that was all this should've been. But then his stupid heart had decided that it wanted to start to like this former stranger. Really like. And now he traded his brother for someone he didn't even know for a year. Shit he didn't even know if this would last. If there was something that could last in the first place. Neither of them had comitted to anything after all. He should've just stayed away from all of this.

It was so pathetic and laughable, that Houston couldn't help but laugh. A small one at first, growing into something that got his body trembling until he realised that his laughter had become a sob. Wet traces left on his cheeks as the final reminder what a stupid son of a bitch he really was.

For once he wished for the empty apathy to return. That was a pain he could understand. One he had dealt with for so long. It hurt less.

 

No. No this had to stop. He forced himself to get up. This little task took all the strenght he had. It would've been so much easier to just stay there and curl up into a sobbing mess. But he willed himself up. Dragging himself into his spacious kitchen. He kept his mind distracted with easy task after task. Find a cup. Get the powder for hot chocolate. Place a small cooking pot on the stove. Get the milk and so on. He was just glad he had kept in mind to actually stock the place up. There hadn't been much left to take with him anyway. The few spare clothes he had at the safehouse...his sketchbooks and drawing equipment, his laptop...and that was about it. Everything else he had had...Poof. Gone in a bang. Maybe he should just sit down with his sketchbook. Yeah. That's what he would do.

 

He quickly finished what he was doing, returning to the huge living room, hot mug in hands and messenger bag with all his art stuff in it over his shoulder. He flipped on a small lamp, just enough to see what he was doing. Maybe he was lucky and he had put his mp3-player in his art bag as well. He didn't remember. He rummaged through it for a while. No luck. But he had seen CDs in the modern shelfs beside him. Hoping Bain had set up anything usable here he began his search.

 

After countless albums of musicians he had never even heard of, he finally found something he knew. A soundtrack. Les Choristes. Soon dulcet sounds filled the big room, drowning out the horrible silence. He skipped to a certain piece of music - La Désillusion - and put it on repeat, losing himself in the sound as he flipped through his sketchbook. So many faces he had drawn. The whole crew. A small smile crept on his face, when he looked at all the smiling portraits. The captured happyness. Wolf...Chains...Clover, even Wick and Jacket. Even those two smiled every now and then. It wasn't as obvious as the beaming grin one could get from Sokol or Bonnie, but it was definitely there. He turned over the page, coming to the newest of his works. This person wasn't smiling. He looked serious. Almost gently Houstons fingers now traced the graphit lines that formed an image of Hoxtons face. Slowly he began to add new lines, shadows here and there, soften the grave expression out a bit. For a while he lost himself in the music and the work at hand, only stopping every so often to take a sip out of his mug. He worked inside this creative bubble of sound for a while, until the buzzing of he doorbell interrupted him. Had to be important, seeing how only a limited amount of people even knew where he was.

 

At the door he was greeted by someone he hadn't expected.

"Hey...", the fugitive looked at him, rubbing the back of his head as if he was unsure what to do.

 

"Hey...uhm. Is there something wrong? Has anything happened..? Sorry, you want to come in..? Talking out in the open is maybe not the best idea..even if it's just the staircase.", he'd hardly be here just because..right?

 

"Oh, no, no god no. Everythings alright, don't worry....Yeah, i'd like that. Just if i don't bother you or anything..!", he quickly added.

 

"You're not bothering me....to be honest I...uhm...let's say a little company is never wrong in rooms that fucking huge...", he half joked, closing the door behind the man that had just entered.

"Just through that door. You want something? Tea..?", he got Hox' coat and put it on one of the hooks in the entrance area.

 

"If you have a cup, yeah.. thank you."

 

"Sure.", suddenly the way to the kitchen wasn't so far and exhausting anymore.

 

 

Hox wandered through the hallway into the living room, where he was greeted with beautiful music. Melancholic in a way, yet the memory of past joy and fondness almost palpable. As if he would listen to the memorys of an old man, reliving his life with all the ups and downs. He would've never guessed, that Houston was one to listen to this kind of music. All orchestral, classical flair to them. He let his eyes wander, damn the little brat even had a piano, Bain had done a great job at making this look like the typical rich guy hideout. Slowly he made his way deeper into the room, passing the lounge area with the sofas and the small coffee table.

 

A book was lying there, opened with a pencil on the pages. Careful he picked the book up and studied the drawing. Artist, huh? And not half bad as far as he could tell. The music looped, creating an almost meditative peace. It was strange how welcome he felt here. For hours he had debated wether he should or shouldn't go and now he was really here, looking down on a picture of himself. A picture Houston must've been working on, judging from the pencil on the page, evidence he had been thinking of him. In a way. Whatever way that might've been. So that was what the little twat did, when he was alone. He smiled softly, glad he got to find out a little more about the silent ghost.

 

 

"Here, i got you cup of....tea...", Houston stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw Hox with the sketchbook he had stupidly left open. He would call him a creep, he would be angry.

 

The sudden fear was evident on Houstons face for a second.

"I guess you did this..? It's good...really good...didn't know you could do such things...I was always bloody awful at that..", he smiled up to the ghost. "Thank you for the tea. I didn't mean to spy. I'm sorry.", careful not to damage the drawing by touching it he placed the book back and sat down.

 

"I uhm....Thank you...I thought you would be mad...most people don't like it if.. well...some think of it as creepy...", Houston explained quietly, before he sat down beside Hox, setting down the teacup.

"I probably should turn the music off, it's a bad habit... i just like to listen to something relaxing while i'm working...let my mind go blank for a bit.", he wasn't sure why he even told the fugitive, he probably wasn't interested in such minor facts anyway. When he reached for the remote, a warm hand closed around his, stopping him gently.

 

"You don't have to, really...just... leave it. To be honest i really like it. Never thought you'd be one to listen to this kind of music though...it's beautiful...i didn't want to interrupt you in your work...just go on if you want...never had the chance to look over an artists shoulder anyways..", he smiled again, settling back into the soft cushions, arms stretched out on the backrest.

 

"Sure you won't get bored..?", Houston kind of missed the warmth of Hox hand on his as soon as it was gone. Quietly he picked up his book, pencil and pillow, scooting over to the fugitive. He was very aware of the arm behind him on the sofa as he settled right beside him, pillow on his crossed legs and book on top.

 

"I'm very sure, don't worry...I just didn't want to be alone...that's all...and now i'm not. So all is good..", why the hell he was talking about this was beyond him. It just felt alright to do so. Natural.

Even though this wasn't the way he usually presented himself. This was different. He kind of felt at home here. At ease.

And so he watched Houston, caught an occasional glance, the ghost took at him, before returning to the drawing.

 

The world outside those glass panes seemed so far away now. Beautiful dots of light here and there in the dark. But they were safe here. In their little bubble of light, music and warmth.

 

 

 

Houston didn't know when exactly Hox arm had wandered from behind him to around his shoulders and when he had nestled against the other man, comfortably half leaning. The fugitive had asked a question here and there, what he was doing, how something worked. Somewhere along the way he had turned the page and started a new picture, explaining the process behind it. And Hox had just listened. He had put the Album on shuffle and every now and then french lyrics filled the music.

 

"What are we listening to here anyway..? Sounds like pretty young voices.",Hox leaned a bit closer to him.

 

"It's uhm...it's from a movie..about a school for boys with behavioural problems as they call it...so yeah... they are very young.",he explained, while adding a few more lines to the first sketches he had made. Slowly the panoramic view out of the high glass windows took form on the paper.

 

"Doesn't sound like a very happy place...but you like the music...and the movie too i guess..?", Houston had put aside, his sketchbook and the pencil now, crossing his arms around the pillow, before he leant back into Hox' arm again.

 

"It's about a place that was hell for those children...and a new teacher...music teacher...they were disobedient..because that was all they knew, there was no love or understanding there..so they lashed out...but this teacher...he tried to understand...tried to help them out of their misery...made them sing...composed for them...gave them something beautiful in their life. Something to hold on to. Something that made the days in this horrible school easier to bear. Most of the songs that is what they sing about... about the school. Others are happier...like cerf-volant...it's..pretty much about a kite in the sky...and how it is free.. so high up...i can't tell you the lyrics one for one..but that's about it..they dream about freedom.. and through music they have a glimpse of that...", he went silent for a while, lost in his own thoughts.

Quietly he continued.

"I can relate to that, i guess....i did things, when i was younger...that i'm not very proud of...there were things i wanted to run away from too. And i found my way, like they did..for me it was that..", he gestured to the sketchbook.

 

"But you're still not out of that place...", Hox replied as quietly.

 

"Neither of us both really is...huh?", he didn't look up to Hox, he knew that this was a risk to take. To ask about how Hox was after all.

 

"We are all fighting our battles, Zachariah..."

 

"That was the first time you did that...", Houston smiled a little.

 

"Did what..?", he eyed Houstons smile with amusement but also a little confusion. Warmth spread in his chest as he watched the ghost like that.

 

"Called me by my name..", Houston looked up to him now, smirking.

 

"What..? Is that a problem..? If you don't want me to--"

 

"No, no...it's fine..really...to be honest I...I like that...I don't hear it that often...It's nice...I wasn't even sure you knew, what my full name was until now..", he chuckled a bit.

 

"Of course I know your name! I'm your brothers best mate, lad. Of course he talked about you.. and i'm not deaf...he calls you by your name every now and then.."

 

"He did..?"

 

"Sure. You know Nathan...nothing too personal..told me that he had a brother..who you were...this stuff...you two are very alike in some aspects, you know..? And in others one wouldn't believe the two of you are even related. The longer I have both of you around the more i realise that.", he chuckled quietly.

 

"Doesn't sound like it would bother you...I'm glad...", he could feel now how Hox absentmindedly and gently stroked the side of his neck. Not that he would mind. Not at all.

 

"Nah...you two may be related...but you are still two sperate personalities.."

 

"And you think you could like both of us...?", he carefully inquired a little further.

 

"I think i already do...but in that too, you two are different...Nate is my friend... the best mate i ever had and will have...", the fugitive went silent for a bit, looking out into the night, the small lights reflecting in his eyes.

 

"Yeah... he is...", he followed Hox' gaze for a bit. "He missed you, you know...They all did...", Houston got up, now that the music had died down, to go for a smoke.

"They all care about you big time.", he waited in the glass door, as he saw that Hox was following him.

 

"I know...we're all pals after all...There's practically nothing i wouldn't do for them...", they stepped to the edge of the balcony, only the railing between them and a god knows how many feet high drop. For a short moment a small flame illuminated Houstons face as he lit his cigarette. Hox took the packet offered to him as well as the lighter.

 

Hox let his back rest against the railing, looking up in the sky after he had lit his own smoke.

"...Hey Zac..?"

 

"Huh..? What is it..?", the ghost looked up.

 

"You do know that he will come to terms with this.. right..? You don't have to be afraid of Nate..."

 

"..How did you even know what i was thinking about..i didn't say anything, did I..?", it confused Houston to have someone beside him, who for some reason just knew things. It was a new experience.

 

"I'm not blind...I can see that you are brooding over many things, mate. Same way you can probably tell with me. And I've been in a similar situation...plus...i would've been surprised if you hadn't thought about that. After how you reacted when he saw us.", the englishman crossed his arms, closing his eyes for a while just enjoying the cold fresh air.

 

"I just don't know what i want now...If i wished he had never found out...but then again...it was a relieve...a short lived one, now that he shuns me..but...ugh...I just don't know, man.", he sighed quietly, rubbing his temples for a bit. "I feel like this shitty angsty teen all over again...god i thought that was behind me...all this crap..this is so pathetic...He has enough to worry about with the whole rat thing going on...and I'm giving him something else to worry about on top of it all.."

 

"That's bollocks, Zac. And you know that...He has his priorities straight it's not like you having a thing for men would affect him personally. All he has to do is come to terms with a few things...I guess foremost the fact that he didn't somehow magically know. For someone who has to be on top of every situation it's hard to adapt to the fact that he can't possibly know everything. Even if it's his own brother. Maybe part of it is, that he's disappointed that you didn't tell him sooner...and another might be that it was me out of all people he caught you with..I'm sorry for that..I never meant for you to get into so much trouble because of me...", he paused for a bit, sorting his thoughts. "That doesn't mean I'm sorry for what happened there..because I sure as hell am not. He didn't believe me you know...He thought I would just use you and then drop you, just to get back at you once more..", Hox smiled, but the hurt of those accusations was visible.

 

"He wasn't thinking straight...", Houston stepped beside the fugitive, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "He was shocked..he didn't mean it..I'm sure he didn't..he wouldn't throw that at his best friend if he was in his right mind...I guess it's like you said...maybe he just needs time to figure things out...", for a while he fell silent before he continued more quietly. "Thanks....for not leaving me to deal with this alone...I never got to say that until now..."

 

"I'm part of this after all...", Hox turned his head to his ghost. When exactly had he started to think of the guy as 'his'..? Did that really matter though, since he kinda liked the ring it had to it.

He never knew he had a posessive streak. Maybe he did know. But he usually never comitted to someone. Ever. He looked down to the lean hand on his shoulder. He had hated to be touched so much just a few weeks ago. Things had changed since then. For the better for all he could tell. Now he liked the sight of it. The feel. It was strange what little details one noticed in the weirdest situations. Houstons hand seemed almost too delicate to belong to a male, not like his own, roughed up by years of fighting.

Smooth skin except for a few scars, almost unnoticable, small faded white lines, like threads. He wondered where those came from. As a ghost and with that an expert in lockpicking, pickpocketing and more he needed his hands. It was only natural that they were well looked after. Even more now that he knew about Houstons talent with pencil and paper. All the more surprising why his hands were scarred. Careful he took Houstons hand into his, turning it.

 

"What...? Is something wrong..?", Zac let him inspect his hand, watching the process a little confused.

 

"What are those..?", slowly he traced one of the lines with his thumb. Now the difference was even more obvious to him, delicate smooth hand between his own.

 

Houston remained quiet for a while.

"Those are...very old..i was maybe..13....14...at the time...I...uh...I got my hands tangled in wire...in art class...", again silent, he looked at his own hands, raising the second one, careful to not drop any ashes off the cigarette between his index and middlefinger. This one had the same pencil thin lines on it. One literally could only see it if looked upon very closely.

 

"Tangled in wire..? This must've cut deep if you got scars from it...and both hands..?", Hox spoke careful, it was obvious that there was more behind that story. "What happened...?"

 

Houston put out his cigarette now. Closing his eyes for a while and breathing in.

"I wasn't very well liked, you know...the strange kid that never talked...I went from loud and aggressive to mute and introverted and back...didn't really have friends...we moved a lot..so at one point i stopped trying...yeah so..my classmates didn't like me and i didn't do much to change that either to be honest...one time they got me after class. We had to clean the art room and that day we did like little sculptures with bend wire and such. They thought it would be funny to string it around my hands as tight as they could and leave me there. I know now that they hadn't thought it would do any harm then...we were all kids after all.", again he paused for a bit. Seemed like he hadn't told the story before. He didn't hold a grude either, almost as if he'd had accepted a long time ago, that it was his own fault.

"I paniced. Tried to get it off. Wiggled and all, made it worse. I thought i could break the wire with enough force since it was really thin. Turns out even thin wire is sturdy as all hell. At least for young me. The problem with something that thin is, at some point it cuts into skin. And that's what it did...took almost two hours before a teacher found me.", he cleared his throat, flexing his fingers uncomfortably.

 

"I'm sorry...you must've been scared out of your mind...", Hox caught Houstons hands in his, covering the evidence of that day, stopping him from shying away.

 

"That was a long time ago... don't worry. And i got plenty more scars now, most of them way worse than those.", he smiled, trying to mask his unease with humor. "I know they look repulsing..sorry.."

 

"No they don't...if those did..what would my face then be? Scars are nothing to be ashamed of...they are part of who we are. Telling stories of things we left behind. What we overcame. Wear them with pride rather than fear...", Hox chuckled now. "Good god, listen to me. Jeez i sound like some preacher..."

 

"I like that thoughtful part of you though. Just saying.", he smiled up to the brit.

 

"Yeah you bring out the worst in me.", Hox joked, earning a gentle punch in the shoulder and a small laughter from Houston.

 

"Suuuure, all my fault.", Houston kept smiling as he now stood with his back against the railing. Taking in the nightly atmosphere. Another thing he appreciated. How they could go from serious topic to lighthearted banter. How he could smile even now when he had just relived an afternoon in hell. He looked at his hands now. It surprised him that Hox had even noticed. The englishman was far more observant than he had given him credit for. For a while he watched the man with him. He had looked at him so often this evening when he had been drawing and still he found new little details he hadn't noticed before.

 

"Hey..", the softly spoken word and a gentle hand on the side of his neck got him back to awareness.

Looking in deep brown eyes he gave in to what he had wanted to do for a while now.

Slowly he leant forward, stopping mere milimeters away from Hox' face.

Hesitantly he closed the remaining space. Careful, almost as if he was scared to hurt the man before him, he kissed Hox. For the first time he was able to really take in the moment. No anger, no desperation, no rush. Just the affection for each other. A simple act of tenderness and yet not so simple at all.

As the fugitive returned the kiss, he took a step forward, placing his hands loosely on Houstons hips, simply enjoying the presence of his ghost and the shared intimacy of the moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry for every grammar mistake, but since i don't have anyone to beta read all of this...bear with me guys. I hope you enjoy this horrible first story of mine at least a little bit xD Still in the process of trial and error :)


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